


The Man who Fell Overboard

by Afflitto



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Mertalia, Prumano - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 60,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Afflitto/pseuds/Afflitto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Family hunted to near-extinction, Lovino is left to wander the ocean aimlessly.  His life is changed when he falls in love with a human he saves from drowning, but he soon discovers that the land is dangerous for his kind.</p><p>Prumano, Mertalia AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Man Who Fell Overboard

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I'm not sure why I didn't post this ages ago. This is my Mertalia AU, which is my gift to tumblr user rniq. (: I'm updating in small installments of about 5 pages each, depending on how busy I am. Enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Gerita sidepairing.
> 
> Comments and suggestions are appreciated!

Every year the ocean got just a little bit colder, but mermaids were around since before the age of snow when great chunks of the ocean were encased in ice, so their muscular tails and thick skin were enough to insulate lean bodies.  Still, as Lovino battled the current, he felt the flow of his blood grow more sluggish while the beating of his heart faded from erratic to feeble, like an animal grown too exhausted to fight its way out of a thicket.

“The hell is happening,” he wondered.

He’d been swimming for days, off to find where the schools of fish had disappeared so he could ease the gnawing in his stomach.  It’d also been days since he’d seen another of his kind.  They too, had grown scarce, whether to find warmer waters or to seek out food, Lovino wasn’t sure—the only thing he did know was that he’d been left behind.

Which was why he was swimming aimlessly along in what he felt like were circles.  He wasn’t sure where he was going--just that he hoped there would be food and clear streams like he remembered once from his childhood.  He loved the lace of dancing light that rippled along creek bottoms and the heat that soaked the shallows.  
  
“The edge of the ocean,” Lovino said.  “That’s where the rivers start.”  His brow creased.  “Or end?”   It’d be easier to breathe, most definitely; Lovino’s gills were fluttering out of control on the sides of his neck, and the frigid water seeped deep into his core.  He was practically gasping for oxygen that couldn’t feed his brain fast enough.  
  
Powerful tail undulating, he headed upwards, hoping that a few solid lungfuls of air above the surface would be enough to stem the dizziness clouding his mind and help him regain a sense of direction.  If he was lucky he’d be able to find the North star and look around for the haze of an island somewhere.

He broke the surface after a solid minute of desperate swimming-- he’d been further down than he’d realized—and started gulping down air, chest heaving with the sudden activity as his body adjusted.  He tread water like that for a few minutes, long enough to claw his bangs from his face and wipe the salt from his eyes as he blinked upward.  It wasn’t quite twilight yet, but the moon was already a vague orb off to the distance.  The bottom of the sun had just begun to dip down below the horizon.  Dusty light seeped into the ocean and the daytime blue mellowed out to soft pinks and oranges that would gradually fade to black as night descended.

The stars would be out soon.  
  
“Sun sets…in…the west?” Lovino said.  His voice grated in the pure air, almost incoherent.  Mermaids were designed to communicate underwater, so much talking above the surface strained his throat and fragile lungs.  But Lovino needed to think out loud.  Needed the reassurance of a voice, even though his own was the only he could provide.  He found that the more he spoke, the easier it became, as his lungs slowly adjusted and took over for his gills.  His voice became smoother and he became calmer.  “At least there is a sun…better than wandering around in the dark.”  
  
Water slapped him in the face midbreath.  He spent the next few minutes coughing to dispel the offending liquid before finally dipping back under to readjust.  He re-emerged, unamused.  “I should…oh shit.  I don’t know which way to go.”  Squinting eyes could make out nothing on the horizon in any direction except…what _was_ that? 

Blotted out in the sunset, just a silhouette, it looked like a large…pole stacked with three square tiers that decreased in size toward the top.  Even from that distance, he could see it bobbing up and down as an onslaught of wind churned up the water.  The air crackled restlessly while the underbellies of clouds bulged ever darker.  Every so often electricity shot through the dry air.

“Whatever the hell that is, it’s fucked up.”

He was forced to duck back beneath the water with a flash of scales when another slew of wind nearly shoved him face-first into the waves.  He drove deeper but found himself twisting his body around and rushing toward the strange object, as if drawn to it.

Lovino had swum barely one hundred meters when he found his vision overpowered by a massive wooden hull cutting through the water.  He wandered along the side a bit and under, tracing the surface with his fingertips, listening, tapping.  It was coated with grime, weathered by water; hundreds of barnacles that Lovino could not pry loose crusted the underbelly. 

The object started rocking back and forth more violently than before, like the swinging of a pendulum--so far that he feared it would overturn completely and yet so slowly that it seemed like a nightmare.  Through the thick wall of water he could vaguely make out shouting.  Something creaked.  Something else hurled downward and slapped through the surface of the water, followed by a second object slicing through choppy waves in a torrent of bubbles.  It latched onto the first object, now motionless, righted itself, and began kicking and flailing against the drag of the water until both heads broke the surface.

Another splash.  Some kind of red tube had thunked down near both creatures where the conscious one could push toward it and wrap the rope around the other.  Slowly the tube trailed toward the boat in spurts, following after a heavy rope.  
  
But the water was churning more and more aggressively until the waves rose up in fury, far above the head of the second creature, crashing down into him with such power that he found himself slipping downward with a force that no amount of thrashing could overcome.  The water around him boiled with the intensity of his struggling.  A fresh tube slapped nearby, but he was already sinking.

His hand grasped for it.  Feet away.  Bubbles exploded from a mouth that had been desperately clamped shut.

Then…he just lay there in the embrace of water as if suspended; his head fell back with the slow descent of one sinking, limbs spreading out, that same hand going limp, fingers curling inward as eyes slid shut. Blue light swathed him.  The ocean settled into calmness that belied the storm raging above.

Several seconds raced by at a speed that Lovino’s brain couldn’t process, and he was moving toward the unconscious creature before he realized, hovering near without touching him, eyes blinking wide.    
  
It looked like Lovino.  Face, jaw, shock of hair—though white—sinewy arms, muscular chest.  But where there should have been a tail two long limbs forked out, muscular, bulging with the graceful curves of muscles.  At the ends Lovino was startled to find what looked like two demented hands with elongated palms and stubby fingers.  
  
“The fucking hell is that ugly thing.”

But something wasn’t right.  For all its struggling earlier, it lay deathly still.  Lovino knew that when fish died, they floated belly up near the surface.  This…this thing was just sinking.  Any further and it would dip down below the temperature gradient where dark creatures lurked in the void.  
  
“Fuck,” the merman said.  He grasped at its shirt and pulled, shaking him like a rag doll.  “Wake the fuck up!”  When it did not move he pinched at its cheeks and tugged at its hair, moving to twist at its fingers, which had turned a deathly cold.  Already its lips took on a purple tint.  Warmth receded from its body.  “Shit, you aren’t made for water, are you,” he realized upon closer examination.  His neck was smooth—no gills.  But when he pressed his head against his chest, he thought he heard the faint beating of a heart.  Lungs then?  A land mammal?  
  
With a grunt, Lovino bowled into him and wrapped his arms around his chest so that his shoulder could take the brunt of his weight.  Tail pumping, teeth gritted, he pushed upwards with such desperation that his entire hips undulated with the power that he needed, tail whipping back a torrent of water to propel them.  
  
They broke the surface.

The water had calmed.

The creature sputtered and coughed a solid five minutes without ever fully regaining consciousness.  He went still again.  
  
Careful to hold its head above the water, Lovino turned this way and that.  There was no sign of the boat in the cold of night, and the moon only illuminated the patch of water that reflected it.  He had to take a moment to readjust the creature in his arms to account for awkward limbs, but then he was moving again, keeping it close to his chest and swimming sideways, half his fin flitting in and out of the water.  
  
“Where is land, dammit.”  Neck in the water and face out of it, he felt awkward relying on both lungs and gills for oxygen, but found that it gave him the power he needed when his muscles started to ache.  He swam well into the night like this, only stopping to rest a couple of times.  “Fucking useless creature.  The hell you go into the water if you can’t fucking breathe in it.  Damn you.  You better fucking wake up and tell me where land is this fucking instance, got it?”

No answer.  
  
But the blue had receded in its lips, and somehow against all odds its chest was barely heaving.

A few more hours and Lovino was flagging badly.  A worn out tail barely moved anymore, and bit by bit the creature slipped from his grip.  But then his dorsal fin scraped sand and all at once Lovino was grappling at the unfamiliar substance until he and the creature were high up on shore where the water barely lapped at them.  
  
“Fucking….shit…”

He could not move.  Could not get back to the ocean.  Writhing only dug him deeper into the coarse sand, so he latched onto the human and awkwardly rolled himself up onto his chest and rested there, surprised to find an odd sort of warmth centered around a fluttering heart.

Warm-blooded, Lovino realized.  No wonder its skin was so thin and almost translucent—as Lovino was fascinated to see veins running along his inner elbow.  He didn’t need the kind of insulation that Lovino did.  Though, with a jerky movement, he realized that it had downsides.  The spines along his tail had sliced shallow cuts through baggy pants and pale skin.  Blood oozed out into the sand.  
  
“Shit…”  But he was already losing consciousness before he could do anything about it.  


 


	2. A Pair of Outcasts

By any counts, Gilbert Beilschmidt should not be alive.  And for a while, the numbness prickling through him convinced him that he wasn’t.  For some time he was nothing.  Nobody.  There was no rocking boat, no screams, no lightning tonguing at the masts to tease exhausted sailors.  No bitter salt and long hours with the constant fear of uncharted waters.  Just quiet he’d never known in a tumultuous life of running away and never settling down to rest.

But all at once that fell away like water slipping through desperate fingers.  The shells digging into his back and the feeble rays of sun on his face brought a fresh deluge of pain that intensified in waves, receding and surging gradually, each more unbearable than the last.  The sting of cuts and scrapes coated with salt and grime pulsed with the same intensity that drove deep through his nerves, up to his head and into the back of his skull. Every breath was a struggle.   
  
He tried to call out but his voice escaped as a harsh whine hindered by swollen tongue.  The taste of blood in his mouth was thick and cloying.  When he tried to move, he felt as if a weight was squeezing down on his chest.  Suffocating him.

He was in the water, he remembered, somewhere in the chaos of hurling waves that cast him about like a rag doll, no amount of strength or speed powerful enough to cut through.  His friend was already sinking. He’d hit his head when the boat nearly overturned then he’d plummeted from the side.  Gilbert didn’t think.  He’d jumped in after him.  Saved him.  Then everything started to fade.  Water had flooded his lungs.  Thick.  Demanding.  Red and black exploded in his vision.  Something was coming at him.  Then Gilbert vanished from the world.    
  
Wake up, Gilbert, this is just a dream, he thought.  Heavy lids fluttered open.  It had to be a dream.  The sunlight felt too real.  The pain was too real.

The weight on his chest shifted.  Somewhere through watering eyes, he could make out a crop of auburn hair over a caramel face—a male’s face--that slept there, breaths harsh but even, fingers curled into the fabric of Gil’s shirt.  
  
“The…hell?”  When he tried to sit up, the weight did not yield.  Instead the man curled up further.  Pain flitted across his features. Something slimy slithered across Gilbert’s leg.

Fresh pain slashed itself through him.  Blood ran thick rivulets down his shin.  
  
“S-s-shit…shit shit shit shit shit shit what is this thing.”    
  
With some difficulty he rocked to the side, until he was able to heave the creature off of him and deposit him on the sand beside him.  Pain lanced through him at any movement, but he found the more he stretched his muscles, the better his blood circulated, until some of the pinprick numbness ceased in his fingers and toes.  He gave up on sitting upright when his vision broke out in black and dizziness swooped in, instead resting there on his side and blinking past pain long enough to study his ‘companion.’  
  
Tanned and lean, he _looked_ human, with auburn curls plastered to his forehead and around his ears—and one stubborn curl that sprung out from where his hair parted.  His brow was creased, nose and chin delicate but pointed, jaw defined but firm.  The slits on his neck resembled vents, flaps of skin designed to open and shut.  Gilbert reached out to feel along them, but flinched back when they twitched open, daring to breathe only when they shut again.  
  
All that was truly well and good, until Gilbert’s eyes trailed down his abdominals to just below where his navel should have been.  The skin there faded from tan to brown, textured like sandpaper that further down grew glossy, iridescent, smooth.  Scales, Gilbert realized with a start.  Scales that became clustered and packed one on top of the other--greens and greys and browns and blues all mottled together, glinting in the sunlight like the ripples over a stream.  A tail where legs should have been, with fins running along the sides and back, dangerous spines digging into the sand.  At the end, a huge fin had curled in on itself, like that of a whale, only semi-transparent and deceptive in its strength.

A mermaid.  
  
Gil felt his brow furrow.  No, if it was a mermaid, there would be shells covering what most definitely was not a female chest—or so legend had him believe.  He’d seen pictures painted on pottery, wooden figureheads on ships.  This was…a mer _man?_

That was what he’d seen swimming for him.  
  
“Did you…save me?”  He wondered aloud.  With some effort he was able to sit up, if only to take in all of the creature at once.  Half man…half fish, then.  It was as simple as that.  Simple but impossible, and half of Gilbert’s brain, from beyond the throbbing mess of his headache, wondered if he’d actually died.

No time for that--its breathing intensified.  “Water,” it croaked.  
  
Gil tensed and fell backwards.  “I-I don’t have any…”  Swallowing, he realized he was dehydrated as well.  
  
“Dumbass…there’s…a whole fucking ocean…like right there.”  Lovino’s tail flopped in that direction.  His eyes blinked open and closed, cheek pressed into the sand, but he put no effort into moving other than to curl up, panting harshly.    
  
“O-Oh,” Gilbert said, crawling toward him.  “You meant that kind of water…”

“No shit,” it said.  
  
Analyzing the situation, Gilbert realized his best bet would be to drag the merman, so he hooked his arms around his shoulders and heaved, still half crawling, inch by agonizing inch, cutting a trench into the sand as they moved.  It hissed in pain but did not move.  
  
“You…you’re heavier than you look,” Gil muttered.  His panting intensified into raw scrapes.  He collapsed a moment, trying to stave off a flash of dizziness that dug deep into his consciousness.  “Ah, shit…”  
  
“Take a break,” Lovino muttered.  His tail thrashed and writhed, and like a snake he sort of burrowed deeper into the sand in his attempts to slither, arms reaching out to pull himself forward.  “Dammit, dry land is fucking stupid.  Sand is stupid.  Where’s the grass?  Isn’t there supposed to be grass or some shit?  At least that shit’s nice.”  
  
Gil’s head thunked backwards.  He stared at the sun, feeling dizzy for the intense light boring into him, tongue like leather and hindering any attempts to swallow or even really breathe.  “What are you even talking about…”  
  
“Rivers,” the merman answered.  “Rivers and shit like that, with soft grass and clear water and no stupid sand digging into my scales.”  He groaned, voice growing raspy.  He swallowed a few times, combating a dry throat.  
  
“This is a beach,” Gil managed as he hauled himself to his feet again.  With a burst of strength, he pulled Lovino the rest of the way, aided greatly by the undulation of his tail, until Lovino’s hand touched water and he was able to squirm free, readjust, and roll the rest of the way into the waves.  
  
He splashed about in his attempt to right himself.  “Took you long enough,” He muttered, dipping his head to meet an oncoming wave, the salt water flooding his gills.  “Better.  Shit, sun is a fucking asshole.”  His throat hurt considerably less now and he was able to speak again.  
  
Gil flopped back down so that his feet touched the water.  The salt stung in his fresh cuts and scrapes, but the coolness helped distract his mind from the burning of muscles and his intense dehydration.  The pounding in his head did not lessen for all his movement.  “Yeah well that solves _your_ problem.  I can’t exactly drink salt water.”  
  
“Not my fault your species is a fucking failure at life,” the merman answered.  “Whatever the hell you are.”  
  
“Human,” Gil choked.  “Gilbert Beilschmidt, if you must know, is my name.  Yeah, no shit, we’re not designed for water, much less salt water.”  
  
“Seems stupid,” Lovino answered, “Like 2/3 of this fucking planet is water.  Way to fall below the evolution curve.  Even stupidass blobfish got the fucking idea.”  
  
“Yeah well your fin thingy is stupid on land!” Gil managed back.  “I could have left you beached there like some kind of lameass whale but I didn’t.”  
  
“I could of let you sink and die!” Lovino retorted.  “Lame gill-less animal.  How the fuck is your name Gilbert if you don’t fucking have gills.”  
  
Gil pinched the bridge of his nose.  “You make no sense.  And speaking of names, you better surrender yours.  And don’t bring up the sinking thing.  As far as I’m concerned, we’re even.”  
  
“Asshole,” Lovino muttered.  
  
“That’s your name?  Sounds about right.”  
  
“N-no!”  He drew himself up further out the waves, enough to prod at his foot, scowling up at him.  “The name is Lovino Vargas.”  He got quiet, sort of retreating a bit into the waves, staring at Gil’s feet as he spoke.  “And I’m from the ice caps, but everyone disappeared some time ago which is the reason I strayed so far.”  He opened his mouth then shut it again, as if trying hard not to say something.  He failed.  “Human, you said?  Seriously?”

Gilbert blinked but nodded, “Yeah…?”

“Huh, weird.  Pictured you as more majestic or some shit.  Instead you’re like gangly starfish.” 

“You know stuff about us?”

“Stories,” Lovino said.  “No pictures though.  Good thing, because I would have been disappointed as hell.  Kind of like I am now, to be honest…”

“Okay, whatever.  Answer this:  How the hell are we speaking the same damn language?” Gilbert asked.

“I can speak whatever language I need to,” Lovino said.  “If I come into contact with the creature.”  He put a hand to his throat and swallowed, “But it’s kind of hard.  Not used to dry land.”  Again he focused on Gilbert’s feet, the dying urge to touch them stamped plainly in bright eyes.  
  
Gil wriggled his toes, amused at how Lovi flinched back, eyes widening, one hand simultaneously reaching up to grab at his largest toe.  When Gil did not move, he pulled himself tighter, sort of pulling his toes apart to stare at the skin webbing between then flexing and extending them, fingers prying at the nails then moving to examine the heel and the arch.  
  
Gil winced.  “That tickles, you ass.”  
  
“How the fuck does this support your weight?”  
  
“It’s a balancing act.  We have two and we alternate between them to walk.  Simple shit.  You learn when you’re pretty young.”  
  
“Oh.”  Lovino released his foot.  His stomach made an audible gurgle and he frowned, coiling up to rest his head against his arms, a thin sigh escaping his lips.  “I’m starving.  I should hunt for something to eat.  You think there are any decent fish around here?  I’m used to shit around the ice caps back when there were a lot of fish there.  Sometimes ventured up onto the ice—could move pretty quickly on it.  Ate penguins sometimes, stupid waddly creatures.”  
  
Gil pulled a face.  “I…I will head inland and look for water.”  
  
Lovino frowned.  “You…you’re coming back, right?”  
  
Gilbert nodded.  “As soon as I can.  Shit, we’re a pair of lost outcasts.  Might as well help each other out, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Lovi said.  His frown intensified, amber eyes caught somewhere in thought that furrowed his brow.  He pushed at the sand with his hand.  “Yeah, I’ll…I’ll hunt for something and you get water, and then you come back and we’ll figure something out.”  Still, that faraway look persisted, even as he slipped backwards into deeper water, “I wish I could…go onto land too.   I like fruit, but damn trees are so fucking tall.  I want to find a river…want to live in one.  Plenty of salmon, fruit trees, fresh water, sunshine, fun shit.  My brother and I used to visit one…and we could swim up pretty far inland and look at weirdass cities from far away.  That’s where humans live, right?  In the cities?”  
  
Gil nodded.  “Something like that.”  He started to pad away, feet sinking a haphazard trail behind him.  He raised one hand without looking back, “Try not to be pathetic while I’m gone.”  



	3. A Lone Pair of Footprints

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I wasn't quite sure how to write Ludwig. He's been through a lot, as his backstory will later reveal. I'm thinking of doing a spin-off fic about it once I'm close to finished with this one.
> 
> As for Lovino, I think the loneliness was getting to him.

He waited for days, spending much of the time sleeping in the shallows, wrapped around where rocks jutted up out of the water so he wouldn’t be dragged out to sea.  At night, when the moon was high in the sky, he flitted about in search of fish.  What he did find, he ate ravenously, though a few he trapped in tidal pools in cages fixed from driftwood and seaweed in case Gilbert returned.

Gradually, the wind scraped away all traces of the crooked line of footprints. 

About the fifth day, he wondered if he’d return at all.  This wasn’t necessarily a bad life out by the shore.  The sun was an unaccustomed warmth that seeped into his skin, the fish plentiful, and Lovino was able to hide easily enough in underwater caves when he heard the splash of fishermen’s nets.  Still he felt an odd sense of betrayal twist its way into his chest when the scrunch of sand he heard every morning were only those of sailors as swarthy as Gilbert was pale.   Maybe it was time to forget about the human and start searching for rivers again.

“You asshole,” Lovino muttered.  He ducked underwater to combat the sting of tears and propelled himself back toward a cave studding the side of the island.  He’d been resting here in the hours of early morning before the sun warmed the sand.  Overhead he could see the watery silhouette of a vessel drifting by.  Oars plunged deep stroke after stroke. 

Something stirred the water nearby.  Rocks shifted and Lovino, finding himself engulfed in powerful arms, gasped air bubbles from constricted lungs, thrashing, the fins at his elbows extending into sharp points to slash at his attacker as his tail twisted and writhed.  Blood spiraled and hovered around the flailing pair like dilute flares. 

“Calm _down_.”

A powerful hand clamped down onto Lovino’s mouth, the other looping around the back of his arms until his thrashing died down.  In this fashion, the attacker dragged him back into the cave and waited until the boat was but a dark speck far beyond the shallows.  He released him and retreated.

Lovino whirled around to see another Merman treading water at the mouth of the cave, hands pressing at the cuts along his arms to help stem the blood flow.  He was pale but muscular, broad shouldered, jaw firm and eyes and gentle blue.  Blond hair miraculously lay flat even in the quiet drift of the water.  His tail was a powerful shark-mix, like the mermen from tropical climates and, while he did not have spines, the edge of his fin was honed to a razor sharp edge. 

He looked at Lovino, brows pinching together.  “My apologies.  I thought you were someone else.”  He sighed deeply and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.  “Regardless, you were too close to the humans.  You were in danger.” 

“I know,” Lovino spat back, “Doesn’t mean you can fucking manhandle me.  They wouldn’t have hurt me anyway—I’ve been watching them for a few days now. “

He shook his head.  “Trust me.  Humans will not hesitate to drag you ashore and sell you to the highest bidder.  It’s best not to let them know you’re here.”  There was something unnerving about the peculiar way he stared at Lovino, eyes sinking into a faraway sadness then snapping back to bore into him, as if willing some unspoken information from Lovino’s face.

Lovino narrowed his eyes but splayed out over a rock with a wave of his hand.  “Whatever.”  He groaned as he sat upright again.  “Oi.  Speaking of.  The hell did you come from?  Are there other merpeople nearby?”  
  
His acquaintance shook his head.  “I am alone.  You are the first I’ve seen in quite some time…I was actually hoping you’d have information on surrounding, um, packs…? Of merpeople.”

“Schools,” Lovino muttered.  “And no.  They all left me so I went to fend for myself.  It’s Lovino, okay.”  
  
“Ludwig,” the other answered.  He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else but, shoulders tensing, looked away with a quiet sigh. 

Lovino shrugged.  “Okay, well, fine.  At least tell me that you know where some rivers are or something.”

“Rivers?  Can you…breathe properly in fresh water?”

“…Yes?”  Lovino asked, “Can’t you?”  He approached quietly, eyes narrowed, stopping within a few feet of the other to properly scrutinize him. 

Ludwig blinked rapidly, mumbled something, and sighed.  “I-I hadn’t _tried_.”  Something lit up in his face, briefly, but it was back to business as he cleared his throat.  “Is that where you think the other schools have gone?”

Lovino shrugged.  “Given up on them.  Couldn’t fucking care less about where they are.  It’s where the good fish and fruit are, so that’s where I’m going.  I don’t _need_ other people.  They just _leave_ you anyway.”

Ludwig’s voice was little more than a whispered sigh.  “I know…”  He turned the other direction, “Then inland up the rivers is where I will go.”  He nodded once, “I would not mind the company.”

“Hell no,” Lovino said.  “I have shit to do and it’s none of your damn business or concern.  Whoever the hell you’re looking for, I hope you find them—“

“How did you—“

“Could you be any more fucking obvious?”  Lovino groaned into his hand and twisted past him with a surge of bubbles.  He rippled with the movements of his tail, as free and fluid as the water itself, angling himself toward the surface in a fast spiral til his head broke the surface.  He took in the air in deep gulps, appreciative of a faint breeze as the sun finally eased itself above the horizon.  Its light skipped and sparkled across churning waves and brightened every crevice and crack of the cliff wall, toward where the island dipped down and water lapped onto the sandy shore.  He ignored the blond head that popped up a few yards away, watching him as he headed toward the sand.

 _Footprints_.

A lone set, wandering, cutting a dotted circle around the beach to and from an imprint where someone had been sitting.

“Dammit,” Lovino groaned.  “Was it him?  Did I fucking miss him??”  He stared out over the beach.  In either direction he saw littered shells and sandy dunes slapping up toward where rocky cliffs climbed the island.  “Gilbert?” he shouted, grappling with the sand to slither his way onto the shore.  “GILBERT?”  If he moved enough like a snake, he was able to burrow out past where the water met the shore, but further up where the sand was dry and loose he could not pull himself much farther.

Lovino felt helplessness tighten around his heart and constrict his lungs.  His friend could be no more than fifty meters away, and he’d never be able to reach him—not with this unwieldy, unless tail.  No matter how graceful and powerful he was in the water, he could never survive on the land. 

Sand scrunched nearby and Lovino, lifting his head, made a cry of excitement, only to find several men dragging tangled nets down to the water to wash.  The leader yelped something, flinching back, but beckoned his friends closer, prodding at Lovino with the butt of his spear. 

“Told you I heard something,” he said to his companion.  When he saw that Lovino was stranded, he knelt beside him to rub his palm against his tail.  Hissing, he jerked it away, bloodied.

“D-don’t touch me,” Lovino snarled.  The spines in his tail extended.  His scales, sharp already, bristled.  He thrashed once, bringing it swinging in a wide arch, slashing it across the torso of the first.

His companions scrambled back as blood splattered across the sand.  The man screamed, shallow lacerations oozing across his chest, then jabbed his spear downward.  Lovino rolled.  The point grazed his shoulder and the shaft splinted as he slammed his tail against it.

“Lovino—“  Ludwig scrambled toward him.  He grabbed for his shoulder and lifted him easily, throwing him unceremoniously toward the water.  Lovi thudded into the sand with a grunt and started rolling into the shallows.  Ludwig grabbed the broken spear and slashed as his assailants, a silent warning to hang back, then pulled himself back into the water.  His hand, tight around Lovino’s wrist, only pulled tighter as he yanked him back into the depths. 

“You could have been killed—“

Lovino wrenched his wrist free and broke the surface again.  The men stood on the shore.  The leader shook his fist and screamed, “We’ll have you hooked and gutted for that!”

 With a startled gasp, Lovino ducked to avoid a spear that came hurling toward him.  “Fucking shit—“  He wiped at burning eyes and swallowed back a tide of sobs that heaved against his chest.  “Gilbert fucking promised—where the fuck am I supposed to go?  I’ve been wandering aimlessly across this fucking ocean alone for too long—he was supposed to come back for me—I can’t fucking be alone any longer—I can’t—I just can’t…“

Ludwig only stared downward.  “Look.  I get that you don’t care much about what I have to say.”  He licked his lips and examined his hands, as if he suddenly didn’t know what to do with them.  He settled with crossing his arms.  Words were difficult.  “Humans and Mermaids were not meant to associate.  I once—I had a friend who tried to befriend a mer—a human.  Even with the purest intentions…it…it was never going to work.”

“Ever stop to think you’re not the fucking expert?” Lovino muttered.  “Just leave me the fuck alone—“  He surfaced again, glad to find that the men had started to retreat.  He hung back, quietly cutting the water, until they disappeared up the hill, then slithered partially onto the sand again—but not so far that he couldn’t roll back to safety with ease.  The lone set of footprints had been churned to nothing in the commotion.

The sand shifted again.  Without thinking, Lovino dove for the water.

But stopped, halfway submerged, to stare at the veins bulging from pale feet that slid to a stop beside him.

“Gilbert—“  Lovino hoisted himself higher.  Red eyes stared back and something in Lovino snapped.  He pounded his fist against one of his feet then sank his teeth into the big toe. With a yelp, Gilbert fell to his butt, kicking at his face just hard enough to shove him back.  Lovino crossed his arms.  “You _asshole—_ do you realize how fucking long I had to wait for you--?  I thought you’d fucking abandoned me and then some assholes fucking tried to skewer me and it’s all your fucking fault--”

“O-oi, put the teeth away, holy shit,” Gilbert panted.  He withdrew his limbs.  “I was—the city was a bit of a walk and I collapsed.  This is the first I’ve been able to walk any distance—“

“Oh…”  Lovino found himself absently latching his fingers onto Gil’s toes, like a child preoccupied with a new toy.  “Well, I’m still angry and you’re still a bastard.”

Gilbert pressed his lips into a thin line.  “Your fascination with my feet is a little unsettling and very weird.  Just so you know.”

Lovino huffed but released his toes.  “Whatever.  You have to get me out of here.  You promised.  Those men—there were guys here and they’re pissed off at me.  I don’t want to become fishbait.”

Gilbert hesitated.  Something caught the corner of his eye—a face—but it dunked beneath the water before he could examine it closely.  “I have an idea,” he said.  “But you’re going to have to put those spines away or something.”  He gestured to the scabs down his legs with a little grimace.  “Because I’m not really into the whole bleeding thing unless I can help it.”

“I can do that,” Lovino said.  He retracted his spines and smoothed his scales until they were smooth to the touch.  “Just don’t freak me out and we won’t have a problem—it’s kind of an involuntary reaction.”

“…Right.”

“You going to pick me up or what?”  He anchored himself against Gil’s foot again and squirmed closer. 

Gil kicked at his shoulder with a brow raised but nodded.  He lifted Lovino up by squatting down, gathering him into his arms, and standing.  He wavered under the uneven weight, grimacing at the slimy coldness of the tail draping over his arm and down one of his legs.  “You are _really_ heavy,” he grunted.

“Don’t be a fucking wimp,” Lovino muttered.  He glanced wildly around, taking in the view of the ocean opening up from this island, then up the cliff faces, then at Gil’s jaw.  As the other began walking, he clung around his neck, tense.  “Your kind are gonna notice my tail,” he said.  
  
“I’m avoiding the road,” Gilbert said.  “And if they do, I’ll just tell them to fuck off.  You’re going to have to trust me.”  
  
Lovino allowed himself to relax slightly.  He rested his head against his shoulder.  “S’not like I have much of a choice.”

\--  
  
Ludwig sank back into the ocean.  The sigh that escaped his lips was not a sigh at all, but a ragged, startled thing. “Gilbert…?”  


	4. Too Heavy a Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although offering to assist Gilbert in making Lovino more comfortable on land, a potential ally knows more than he lets on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I last updated? I was accepted into a phd program in bacteriology that i start this coming fall. Um so, yeah, I just wanted to let someone know because it's kind of a big thing happening in my life ;alksd.
> 
> Ummmm, so, yeah, after this chapter some serious shit goes down. And hopefully some serious Gilbert-Lovino bonding beforehand. 
> 
> Making Lovino fascinated by the sights and smells on land is a lot of fun. <3

After some walking, the pair circumvented the village to come along a small cottage lost in the thicket.  It was small, run-down—made from interlaced sticks and logs and sealed with dried mud while the thatched roof, patchy in areas, littered clumps of hay into the grass.  Nearby, trees clustered around a riverbed, but the water was only a trickle in the intense summer heat.

“It isn’t much,” Gilbert grunted as he lowered Lovino out onto a patch of ground near the door. 

Immediately Lovino sprawled out over the grass, stretching his fingertips to dig into the dirt, tail swishing back and forth, eyes brightening at the strange textures and the coolness of the shade. He buried his nose deep into a patch of clovers with a long exhale; a little laugh escaped him as pollen tickled his nose.  Then, satisfied, he rested his chin on his hands and closed his eyes.

When he did speak, his voice grated, long separated from water.  “S’grass.”

In the meantime, Gilbert worked to jimmy the door open and stepped inside to sit on the little rug just in the entry way.  He used an old rag to wipe at his feet—bloodied and dirtied from the long trek—then stood, offering a hand to Lovino.  “You want to come inside, or would you rather roll in the dirt like some kind of muddy pig?”

“…Pig?”

Gilbert shook his head.  “S’nothing.  A land animal.”  He hoisted Lovino up.

Gilbert had to rotate mid-step to fit Lovino’s tail through the door, but he managed to haul and deposit the mermaid onto a pile of blankets near the back.  Lovino sat, blinking, fingers curling into the unfamiliar texture of wool as he looked around.

The cottage was just as small inside as it appeared out, the one room furnished only with blankets, one rickety table mismatched by an old crate for a chair, and a little firepit made from an iron tub.  Sunlight poured in through the gaps in the wall that Gilbert had failed to stuff with rags.  The floor was packed dirt.

“This is where humans live?” Lovino asked.  He’d finagled the one blanket to cover his tail.  He sat picking at the fluff escaping a hole in the other.

“Um, sorta,” Gilbert muttered.  “It was the cheapest shit I could find, had to trade promised labor because my money is kind of on a ship in the middle of the ocean.”  He pinched his nose with a long sigh, “But s’life, I guess.  I don’t really need all that much anyway, and this is better than _nothing._ Damn lucky find, if you ask me.  But no, it’s not exactly typical.  Most people can afford tables and chairs and wooden floors and stovetops and cupboards and all that shit.”  He glanced over at Lovino, realizing that he was not following.  He waved his hands, at a loss for words, then clasped them together and shook his head again with a breathless little laugh.  “You don’t know what any of that is, do you?”

Lovino shook his head.  “…No?”

“Well…uh, human stuff.  Okay, fine, then where do Mermaids and their girly little tails live, then?”

“How bout I slash you with my spines, gonna call it girly then?  Also you’d be surprised, the women are scarier anyway.  More spines.  Claws.  Sometimes pointed teeth.”  Lovino scoffed but leaned back against the wall, drawing his tail closer.  He picked absently at his scales as he spoke.  “But, um, I haven’t had a home in a long time.  Usually we just live in caves anyway.  Ice caves, normal caves, rivers, I don’t know.  Just any place kinda sheltered like that so we can hide.  We sleep on shit we make from seaweed, but sand can be comfortable too.  We don’t…build shit.  S’not like we have trees.”

“True,” Gil mused. 

Lovino winced, irritated by the sting of dryness slowly seeping across his tail.

Gilbert blinked.  “Oi.  You okay?”

“Get me water,” Lovino said.  “Tail’s drying out.  That shit ain’t good.  S’not supposed to do that.”

“Yeah, one second.”  Gilbert raced toward a jug of water he’d been keeping in the corner.  Half he dumped over a wadded old blanket, which he wrapped slowly around Lovino’s tail, taking care to be gentle when the other winced and hissed.  The tail, once slimy, had taken on the texture of a scaled reptile—and an angry red rash splayed irritation out over where the scales slowly bled into the skin of his midriff.    
  
Lovino closed his eyes.  “Better.”  He cursed quietly to himself.  “S’why I have to stay near the fucking ocean.  I hate it.”  
  
Gilbert shrugged.  “I think…when there isn’t a drought that river should be filled with water again…”  He took a second rag, dipping it into the water, and started to dab at the dried skin on his chest and up to his forehead, where beads of sweat plastered his hair to his forehead.    
  
“Can’t wait that long,” Lovino groaned.  “Fuck this.  Fuck this fucking sun and this fucking tail, I just want to—“  He scowled, biting his tongue.  
  
“…Want to what?” Gilbert asked, lowering the rag.    
  
With a long sigh, Lovino rolled over so that he faced the wall.  He cut off Gilbert’s exclamation with a whine.  “Get my back too, asshole.”  Only when Gilbert started dabbing between his shoulder blades, did he continue.  “I haven’t seen another one of me in a long time—at least not people from my pack, just some random stick-up-his-cloaca shark-bastard who needed to mind his own business—“

“A _what--?_ ”

Lovino waved him off.   “Look.  S’not fair.  I can breathe the same air as you.  Why can’t I survive on land?  How can you possibly be fucking lonely with so many people colonizing this area, all crammed together, building shit out of trees and running around on their walking-leg-sticks.”

“You’d be surprised,” Gilbert said.

“I’m just fucking tired of empty darkness and silence and wandering aimlessly around.  You have sun and the sound of birds and more of your kind than you can count.  And places you can return to and call home and people to talk to.  I don’t have that.  I don’t even know if my family is _alive_ , okay.  They left me and _vanished._ ”  His shoulders quivered, hunching as he hung his head and swallowed, teeth gritting audibly.

Gilbert hesitated; the cloth went slack in his grip, still pressed against Lovino’s back.  “Hey now.  Don’t fucking _cry_.”  He resumed rubbing at his back, more out of comfort than rehydration.  “I get it, okay.  I know what you mean.  Maybe not literally, but I do.  So you want to live on land?  We’re going to make it happen, one way or another.  I’m a pretty clever guy, despite what people might think.  We can improvise.”  He stood, dropping the rag on Lovino’s head.  “In fact, hang tight.  We’re going to make this easier on you right away.  I’ll talk to the landowner.  He’s a pretty eccentric guy, so I think he might have some supplies that I can make use of to make sure you’re comfortable.”  
  
Lovino turned his head.  A confused array of emotion twisted his face into something vulnerable—something he couldn’t reign in as hard as he tried to scowl.  Instead, he frowned.  “O-Oi, why _are_ you helping me, Gil-less-bert?”  
  
Gilbert winked.  “I kinda owe you my life.”  
  
“That’s a shit reason.”  The rag slipped down over his forehead, hanging down over his eyes.    
  
Gilbert shrugged, “Plus I think you’re funny as hell in your own irascible way.”  He plucked the rag from Lovino’s face with a cheeky smile, which fell into a more serious expression.  “I’ve kind of been…in a rough place.  I would have been okay with drowning, to be honest.  I don’t want to get into too many details while you’re sitting here drying out…but somehow I’m glad it was someone like you who pulled me out of the ocean.”  He dropped the rag onto Lovino’s head again. 

The door creaked open and shut again.

Lovino flopped over onto his back with a long sigh, lifting and dropping the rag onto his face.  The soggy blankets were soothing to the irritation on his tail, but he felt his motion restricted by their strangling hold.  “To gain one thing, you have to give up another,” he muttered to himself.

In the muggy heat of the afternoon, he was able to doze off, dreaming up scenarios where he lived in a massive river which fed into a cottage where he could crawl up onto the floor and lounge, tail dipped into the water alongside Gilbert’s feet.  
  
He barely woke to a second creak of the door and a loud scraping and sloshing—until water splashed onto his face and he thrashed into an upright position, wiping at his eyes, disoriented and confused.  “The hell--?!”  
  
“So, you weren’t lying…”

\--An unfamiliar voice, a peculiar lilted accented, unlike the guttural harshness of Gilbert—

“What’s going on?!”  He blinked up at Gilbert, then his head whirled around to the second stranger, who kept his distance, watching him from the other side of an unfamiliar large, tin container that now dominated one wall.  Gilbert leaned panting against it.  
  
“I got you a bed,” Gilbert managed.  “Um, sorta.”  
  
Lovino continued to stare at the stranger, who took a few tentative steps toward him and knelt down to stare into his face, overgrown eyebrows scrunching together, vivid green eyes fascinated.  “So you are Lovino?”  He was smaller than Gilbert, petite with a disarray of blonde hair.  He wore a green sweatervest completely unsuited to the heat.  
  
“Y-yeah, and you are--?”  
  
“The name is Arthur Kirkland.  I’m the owner of this cottage.  I apologize for intruding.  I was intrigued about the reason why my tenant wished to make use of my laundry tub, you see.  I have a certain interest in the mythological--”  
  
“Do I fucking look like a myth to you?”  Lovino frowned.  
  
Arthur blinked.  “Touché.”  But he smiled, bemused.

Gilbert, finally regaining his breath, lifted Lovino up and slowly lowered him into the tub.  Water lapped up around his sides.  The human spent the next few minutes carrying buckets from a cart just outside and dumping the contents around Lovino, until it lapped up to about midchest. 

Lovino sighed, irritation vanishing. “Thank fucking god.”

Arthur looked to Gilbert.  “What is it exactly that you are planning to do, then?”

Gilbert shrugged.  “Right now?  Earn enough money to survive for a bit, then buy some kind of carriage so that Lovino and I can move further inland.  There are mountains on the horizon a few days travel away.  Mountains mean cold streams, fresh water.  Maybe even caves.  Places that my angry little friend here can’t complain too much about.”  He spoke with strange fervor, eyes shining with pride, excitement.  He kept glancing over at Lovino to gauge his reaction, but found that the other was too absorbed in soaking up the coolness of the water.  
  
“Are you sure that taking him away from his natural habitat is wise?” Arthur asked.  
  
“It was his decision.”  
  
“Very well,” Arthur said.  “I may be able to help.  I know a little bit of magic.  I can…make the illusion of legs so that the two of you can venture to the marketplace without raising alarm—and that you do not have to leave him alone all day long.  If he is determined to get a feel for this place, then so be it.  Let him experience what the human world has to offer.”  He gestured to a wheeled chair padded with an old straw cushion, then dropped a little necklace into the palm of Gilbert’s hand.  “Put this around his neck to draw the illusion.  It is visual only.  Anyone who tries to touch him will know the truth.  You may borrow the chair to transport him.”  
  
“I—okay…?”  Gilbert stood, watching as he slipped from the house.  “I mean I guess—“  
  
The carriage groaned as Arthur climbed up onto the slat that served as the driver seat.  His friend, long-limbed and broad shouldered, cocked his head, an easy smile fading at the apprehension on Arthur’s face.  “Art?  Was what he said true?”  He scratched behind his head then adjusted his glasses, biting his lip.  
  
Arthur nodded once.  “Impossibly so.  Alfred, please, let’s just go home.”  
  
“Yeah, of course—“ A snap of the reigns urged the lone grey pony to amble off toward the path cut into the foliage.  The carriage rocked and swayed.  “Um, so you think that this could be a problem?”  
  
Arthur sighed.  “Unfortunately so.  I only hope that I can dissuade them from this foolish venture before anything happens.  I cannot bear the thought of a repeat of last time.  This is too heavy a burden for one man to carry.”


	5. Lovino's Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovino learns the harsh truth about what's happened to his people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added the Princess sweater in b/c my friend muff drew me merman lovino wearing that sweater (http://potatobastard.tumblr.com/post/76579346090/ask-romanono-i-lost-motivation-to-draw-but), now it's a plot point. wouldja look at that.
> 
> i linked to my reblog of it b/c it seems he deleted (or moved??) his romano askblog. sadday!!
> 
> anyway, i'm on a roll today, two fics updated in one evening! yEAH MAN.
> 
> sorry for lack of fluff. i used it all up on teh jeanmarco.

 Gilbert’s mouth fell open.  “Goddamn, you’d think the illusion would include fucking clothes or something—“

Lovino, still half submerged in his tub, glanced down to where he saw legs--tanned and lean, graceful with muscles as if painted in sweeping strokes, hair curling along the shin and calves, and feet with toes that he could wriggle if he concentrated hard enough.  But, when he reached to touch, he felt scales, an invisible border that betrayed his tail.  “Holy fuck, this is weird.”  Finally he glanced down to the space between his legs and blinked.  “The everliving fuck is _this_ thing—“

“You know what, this is not a question-answer session about human anatomy,” Gilbert said, already half out the door.  He raised a hand and called back, “I’m going to find you _clothes_.”

Lovino shrugged, lips pursed, then reached to trace the glimmer of the chain that fell over his collarbones.  When he unclasped the delicate chain, the illusion vanished, and his tail snaked out over the edge of the tub.  He smirked to himself and spent the time putting the necklace on and off again to watch his appearance change.

“Ugh but why does it float,” Lovino muttered, finally bored and resigned to leaning back with his human legs.

Gilbert returned some time after with a wad of clothes.  “C’mere,” he muttered, dropping them so he could lift Lovino out of the tub, dripping, and settle him into the chair.  He shivered at the disconnect between vision and touch.  “Ah fuck.”

Lovino allowed him to wrestle an oversized periwinkle sweater over his head with minimal complaints, though he tugged at the sleeves with a little frown.  “This is really constricting…”  He blinked.  “but warm.  And soft.  Holy shit.”  He nestled into it with a satisfied little sigh.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gilbert muttered.  “I didn’t bother with pants, because how the hell is a tail going to fit in pants.  So I got you a blanket for your lap.  Just don’t—don’t drop it in public, or anything, okay?”

“You guys that sensitive about your own damn anatomy?”

Gilbert shrugged.  “Public decency or some shit.  I don’t know.”  He helped wrap it around Lovino so that he looked mostly presentable.

Only then did Lovino crane his neck forward to inspect the front of his shirt.  “What does that say?”  He jabbed at the chest logo.  “I can’t read your lameass language.”  
  
“Princess,” Gilbert said.  “The Princess of this country is being officially recognized as the leader of the land now that she’s hit 18.  Some stupid law says she can’t be queen until she’s married, but we all know that’s a load of bullshit.”  He sighed.  “Look, it was the cheapest shirt I could find—they were selling them by the dozen.”  
  
Lovino shook his head, “I like it.”  He snuggled further into it, nearly disappearing down the neckhole.

Gilbert pulled it back down over his head again.  “O-Oi.  First of all, stop being so damn _cute_ or I’ll punch you in the face.  And second of all, don’t fucking do that in public, people will _stare_ and we’re trying _not_ to attract attention.”  He grabbed the handles and wheeled the chair around so fast that Lovino gripped the sides with a little yelp.

“The fuck did you just call me cute—“

Gilbert only moved faster.

Maneuvering the chair through the tangle of underbrush was a challenge, so much that Gilbert had to rest near the road--half slouched against the chair--until he regained his breath.  He wiped sweat from his forehead with one arm.

“Why is water leaking from your head?” Lovino asked, tugging at his sweat-soaked bangs.

Gilbert only grunted in response and continued moving.

The village itself was comprised of an odd mixture of large stucco homes with quirky rounded windows and white painted accents, and log homes jigsawed together beneath thatched roofs.  The roads were mostly packed dirt littered with sand carried up the island by the occasional wind.  Horses grazed on bales of hay, some enclosed in fences, others roaming freely.  On porches, men repaired their nets while children played out in the streets.

Lovino twisted around in his chair, gripping each armrest for leverage and support, as wide eyes drank in everything.  “This is a human settlement?”

“Not so loud,” Gilbert said.  “But yeah.  Sure.  One of them.  Where I came from…it was a huge city, not a village.  There were apartment buildings crammed together in tiny rows and bricks for streets and docks where _massive_ ships anchored.”  He grinned, much enjoying Lovino’s excitement.  “Though, my brother once told me he’d been to a city where they had canals for streets.”

“Canals?  Like water?” 

“Yeah.  And they used these odd little long boats to travel.”

“That sounds…perfect,” Lovino managed.

“Yeah, but apparently the water was disgusting as _fuck_ —“

Lovino frowned. “Oh.”

The marketplace was just down the road from the village, where fisherman hauled their catch and displayed them on wooden carts.  Flies swarmed despite constant fanning, and a pungent odor slunk about.  Other stalls, sheltered by striped awnings, displayed goods made from bits of coral or shells, necklaces of sharks’ teeth, trinkets carved from hardened cherrywood, and blankets woven from thick, soft wool.  Apparently, as Gilbert found out, this island was visited often by traders as well as tourists from other islands just a day’s boat journey away.

Lovino tapped at the armrest and pointed, eager to join the throng but frustrated at the pace at which Gilbert moved, as the wheels of the chair kept sinking into the sand.  Once they reached the stalls, Lovino was happy to run his fingers along clay pots and polished rocks, grinning when he saw a little jewelry box carved with the likeness of a mermaid.  “You guys have seen my kind before,” he said to Gilbert.

“It’s like a legend,” Gilbert said.  “But I guess it had a root in fact.  I mean, obviously.  Here you are.”  He paused then released the chair.  “Hey.  Wait there a minute, but don’t talk to anyone.”  He scurried off to a vender across the way.

Lovino scowled after him but hoisted himself up to grip the box and trace his fingers along each delicately carved detail in the gleaming wood.  
  
“You like that?”  The vendor leaned on one elbow from the other side.  
  
“Y-yeah,” Lovino answered.  He glanced around for Gilbert then back to the seller.  “It’s, uh, nice.”  He carefully set it back on the table, wondering if it was okay that he picked it up in the first place.

“I have a lot of interesting wares that you might be interested in if you like that.”  The vender was all too eager to pull out several more boxes carved with similar figures then canvases painted with mermaids with scales glittering rainbow colours and others of mermaids drowning young men.

Lovino frowned.  “Oi.  Since when do mermaids drown people?  What the hell?”

The vendor blinked.  “There have been incidents.”

“Incidents?  You…you don’t—“ Lovino bit his lip.  “I thought merfolk was all just lore and myth.”  
  
“Clearly you have not been on the Western Isles very long, kid,” The merchant said.  But, with a spark in his eye, he saw his chance.  He pulled out a basket and set it down on Lovino’s lap.  The contents sparkled and chimed as they shifted—hundreds of iridescent, transparent scales.   
  
With trembling fingers, Lovino dipped his hand into the contents with a small shudder.  He felt the screams of his brethren as if in his ears then yanked his hand away, dizziness coursing through a sudden stabbing pain in his head.  His breath came in shaky gasps, which he tried to contain, fists clenched in his lap.  
  
Unaware, the merchant continued, “See.  Merfolk scales.  Scraped from three different beasts.  They’re said to contain healing properties, but I think people prefer them for jewelry or even windchimes—the sound they make is just heavenly, don’t you think?  Makes them seem much heavier and denser than they really are.”

A single hot tear sizzled into the cloth on his lap.  He’d gnawed his lip until it bled.  “You…killed them?”

“They’re overgrown fish.  And pests. Untying fishing nets, drowning children, eating all the crab and fish in the area.  This island would have starved.”

“F- _fuck you_.” Lovino spat.  “That is—that’s _bullshit_.  We’ve never harmed _anything_.  You just—you just wanted us for our damn scales, that’s what it is.  You would _kill_ someone because you could fucking profit--?!”

What if that had been his brother?  His mother?  His father?  His hand clenched around the scales as panic and rage twisted and boiled into something dark inside him.  Without thinking, he lunged forward, tipping the table and all of its contents over onto the merchant.  Somewhere in the confusion he found himself floundering on splintered wood, his own blood seeping amidst scattered scales—some his own, but most from the basket—the heart necklace lost in the chaos and his tail whipping back and forth to destroy as much as he could.

People screamed, but Lovino heard and saw as if trapped in a tunnel.  He barely felt a spear slash through his skin, or the wet dampness that seared ahead of pain.  He could barely hear the hoarse shouting of his friend as he fought his way toward him, or strong hands pinning his tail down long enough for Gilbert to get his arms around him to hoist him over his shoulder.

“D-dammit—Lovino—“  Gilbert’s gasps grew ragged.  His hands stung as scales bit into the flesh.  His legs burned with the effort.

He kept running, even as he felt Lovino struggle and scream and sob and pound his fists against him.  Several of the fisherman gave chase, but Gilbert was able to lose them somewhere in the thick of the forest, ducking into a small cave as they rushed past.

He lay Lovino down, one hand over his mouth, until he calmed, then sat with him, sheltering his head on his lap, just stroking his face, hair, shoulders and whispering soothing words.  “H-hey.  It’s okay.”

“Gilbert they know about merfolk, they _kill_ merfolk and harvest their fucking _scales._ ”  He felt the contents of his stomach heave and he wretched onto the ground beside him.   
  
Gilbert only held him tighter, his own breathing quickening with horror.  “Fucking _shit—_ Lovino—I didn’t know—“  He swallowed.  “We have to get you back to the ocean.  You need to swim as fucking fast as you can—you need to get _out_ of here, back into the deep sea before someone harms you.”

“No,” Lovino whined.  He curled in on himself at a fresh stab of pain.  His hand came away from his side sticky and red. 

“Goddammit,” Gilbert hissed.  He yanked the sweater up over Lovino’s head to get a better look at the wound, then started ripping up his own shirt to try and bind it.  “It’s okay.  It’s not deep—you’re okay.”

“ _Hurts_ ,” Lovino said.  His fist curled tight into Gilbert’s pants.  “S’okay.  I heal fast—but shit—stabbing me with their damn stabby things.”  He closed his eyes, but his breathing leveled.  “Just…just promise me that you won’t throw me back in the damn ocean.  Okay?”

“Fine,” Gilbert said.  He helped Lovino back into his sweater, frowning at the rip in the side and the red blotch seeped into the fabric.  It would have to do for now.  After some silence, he pulled a small bit of cloth from his bag, which he unwrapped to reveal partially mangled strawberries.  “I bought these for you, so eat them,” he managed.   
  
“Fruit?”  He shifted so that he could cram one into his mouth.  He smiled weakly and ate another, then curled up again, grimacing past a fresh wave of pain.

Gilbert continued to stroke his forehead.  Lovino still trembled, despite everything, but the sugar in the strawberries helped ground him.  The albino’s own mind raced as to the best course of action.  If Lovino was still determined to live on land, _was_ there a safe place they could settle?  And how would they get there with only one good pair of legs between the two of them?  He sighed long and hard and decided that he would worry about that just as soon as he and Lovino could move.  The fisherman wouldn’t be able to search long; they had livelihoods to attend to. 

“I really am sorry…” Gilbert whispered to the other.

He let Lovino cry himself to sleep.


	6. How We Say Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With intense rain comes new hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in a fluffy weird mood today? oh god, Gilbert, do not follow the dog. [coughs loudly].
> 
> weird humour is weird? Short chapter is short?

Gilbert must have fallen asleep as well, because he woke to numbness crackling through both his legs where Lovino was draped over his lap.  Painfully, he shifted from under him and climbed to his feet, wavering, then staggered to the mouth of the cave.  The sun had slunk behind the line of trees.  A restless breeze hinted an oncoming storm.  Regardless, Gilbert knew he had to find a safer place for them to hide.  It was only a matter of time before their assailants stumbled upon this little cave.  He winced, tasting bile, then knelt beside Lovino with a grimace.  The thought of anyone treating him like wild game made him see red.

Fingers trembling, he brushed Lovino’s bangs from his eyes.  He wasn’t human, no, but he was a _person_.  An intelligent person with fears and hopes and dreams and a sort of earnestness that thrived despite the weight of the world and loneliness that would have crushed anyone else’s spirit.   “I’m sorry…” Gilbert murmured, leaning forward, lips grazing his ear.  “I’m sorry that we’re like that.  That humans are damn idiots…and can’t hold anything sacred.”

Lovino’s eyes fluttered open.  His head turned slowly.  His breath hitched at the pain at his side, fingers curling into the sand.  “S’not your fault.”  Still, there was a deep sadness seeped into glossy eyes and tears left unshed as Lovino tried to ignore the grief tightening its grip around his lungs and heart.  “I just—“  He screwed his eyes shut; he refused to cry.  “Fuck it.  I just—I would rather they had abandoned me t-than _that_ happening.”  He curled in on himself, muscles tense, and shook.

Gilbert rubbed at his shoulder.  “It—it’s okay to cry…”

“I don’t want to cry—“ Lovino snapped.  His voice broke.  His breath came in ragged gasps.  “I want—I want…”  his voice dipped to a low whisper, like that was all he had the strength for.  “I want to pretend they’re still out there.  Swimming.  Racing dolphins.  Leaping and flipping through the waves.”

Swallowing, Gilbert continued massaging his back, allowing him to roll back onto his lap.  He nudged the strawberries toward him.  “Okay.  Please…just eat, okay?  You need your strength.  We need to figure out how to get to the mountains, remember?”  He watched as Lovino tried to eat.  “I mean—I can’t—I don’t know what kind of pain you must be feeling—but if—if you want to keep going…then…just do what I have always done.  One foot in front of the other—or uh, keep swimming—move forward.  And don’t look back.  Because looking back means pain and what-ifs and regrets, and all that’s in the past.  Mourn your loved ones, but…don’t let it slow you down.  I’m not even asking you to forgive…I just—I don’t know what I’m saying anymore—“  He groaned and looked away.

Lovino was silent.

“Anyway—“ Gilbert mumbled, “I-I’m sorry.  We’ll achieve your goal—that’s all I can offer you…”

“Gilbert?” Lovino said.  He wiped a fist across his own eyes to stop the tears and swallowed.  Hard.  “How do…how do humans say thank you?”

Gil’s eyes snapped back to Lovino’s face.  “What--?” 

Lovino smeared even more tears in his efforts to hide them.  “You’re—you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a friend.”

“I—uh—“  Gilbert felt a knot grow in his own throat.  “You just…you just _did_.  Say thank you, I mean—“

The wind picked up and rattled through the leaves outside.  Trees groaned as they swayed.  Heavy rain dumped in thick sheets.  Gilbert shivered.

“That river should fill up—“ Lovino said, head jerking toward the mouth of the cave.

“If it rains long enough, maybe!”  Gilbert felt an odd laugh tug free from his lips.  “It’s…it’s like some kind of fortune is smiling down on us, maybe.  That riverbed probably leads up to the mountains.  We can make our escape.”

“Good,” Lovino breathed.  He reached upwards, placing his hands on either of Gilbert’s cheeks.  The scruff tickled his fingers.  “I think…it’s…kind of a weird belief that I have.  But, when a loved one dies…they’re there with you in spirit.  I haven’t been abandoned.  They’re looking after me after all…”

Gilbert hesitated, brows furrowing.  He barely dared breathe as Lovino explored his face.  “I—I like that thought.  Means that maybe my family is somewhere looking after me as well.  God knows they have a weird sense of humor.”  He felt himself laugh again, heart heavy.  “It all…kind of works out in the end, I think.  Even if it’s not the way you wanted it to work out.”

“Hm?”

“My parents died when I was pretty young.  I raised my kid brother.  It meant I had to stop fucking around and take responsibility…I was really bitter about it.  But then my brother grew into a respectable young man…and…I was so damn fucking proud because I had done something worth something.”  He shook his head a little.  “But even kids grow up and run off to do whatever the hell they want.  Haven’t seen him in a few years…so I ended up joining the crew on a ship just to keep my mind off of things.  Then I kind of met you.  Weirdest fucking twist of my life.”

“Met me?  I fucking saved your dumbass life,” Lovino said.  His fingers curled behind the lobes of his ears and he yanked him downwards.   Before Gilbert could protest, he eased his nails through Gilbert’s hair and slowly kissed his lips like a lingering, mournful song.

Gilbert pulled up a fraction of an inch--face still alarmingly close to the other’s--then dared not move farther.  He could only blink, dumbfounded, face flushed.  “O-oi—“

“S’how we say thank you,” Lovino said. 

Gilbert sputtered through incoherencies until Lovino kissed him again.

“And how we make people shut up,” Lovino added.

“You do realize that that’s how humans—“

“You dumbass, you think I don’t know that shit?  My brother was fucking obsessed with your culture out of nowhere.  S’same for us.”  He let his hands drop and turned away, his own face burning, then glowered into the rain pelting the ground. 

Gilbert settled down beside him and put a cautious arm around Lovino’s waist, drawing up into his back and burying his nose into the crook of his neck.  “You had a brother too?”  He waited for Lovino to thrash or swat him away.  The merman only let his tail drape over Gil’s feet.

“Yeah,” Lovino said.  “He would go explore abandoned ships.  Found lots of paintings, objects, jewelry even.  He would be jealous…if…”  Lovino swallowed and was quiet.  The rain thickened.

Gilbert hummed something and held him quietly through the night.  By the morning, the rain was coming down in torrents and the wind howled.  Trees cracked from its insane force.  Lightning licked the sky.  Thunder muttered dark threats.

“Holy shit—“ Lovino yelped.  An especially loud crash of thunder jolted him awake. 

“Holy shit is _right_ ,” Gilbert answered.  He’d been awake a little while, watching the storm and keeping an eye out for intruders.  It wasn’t likely that anyone would be out during this.  He wondered what the people in the thatched roof houses did in storms like this—if they suffered much damage from severe winds.  He pulled closer, wrapping his legs around Lovino’s tail and arms around his chest, desperate for warmth.

“Scared or some shit?” Lovino asked.

“No.  I’m cold.  There _is_ a difference,” Gilbert said.  He hissed as scales dragged over his legs. 

Lovino had twisted around to face him.  “I’m hungry,” he said.

“Eat strawberries,” Gilbert said.  His own stomach churned.

“I, uh, ate them all already.”  He’d been awake at some point earlier that morning.

“Fuck you,” Gilbert groaned. 

“Fuck you more,” Lovino said.

“Well we can’t very well leave in this kind of shit weather.  I don’t have a death wish,” Gilbert said.

Lovino groaned.  His eyes were puffy and tinged red.  He’d been crying.

So Gilbert kissed him, long and slow, his hands warm and steady at his back, their breaths little shared whispers in close space.  He felt the other draw closer, fingertips trailing down his cheeks to his chest.  They swept over hip bones and gripped his ass.

Gilbert yelped.  “O- _Oi—_ don’t go shoving your fingers in random crevices—“

Lovino snorted.  “I was curious.”

“W-well—that’s enough curiosity for one day—“  He reached his hands behind him to remove Lovino’s fingers from his asscrack.  “Inappropriate, perverted bastard.”

“You kissed me first,” Lovino said.

“I believe you issued the first kiss.  Last night.”

Something outside whined.  Both bolted upright, Gil to his feet and Lovino onto a large rock, tail acting like a spring.

A little dog, completely drenched, wandered in and whimpered.

“The hell is that thing—“ Lovino scrabbled higher onto his perch.

Gilbert knelt and held out a hand to it.  “It’s a dog…”  It wandered toward him and sniffed him, then sat, head tilted.  “Though what the hell it’s doing wandering around in this…I don’t know.”  He inched closer til he could scratch behind its ear.  “Seems harmless though…”

It was a small dog—coloured black and brown, its body too long for its height, and a butt that wiggled when it tried to wag a long tail.  It rubbed its head against Gilbert’s hand and licked his hand, but whined more.

“God, he looks a lot like a dog tha—“  Gilbert wrapped his fingers around the collar on its neck and drew closer, squinting down at some tags fashioned from old bits of metal.  “Oh my fucking god.  This is my brother’s dog.  Of all of the fucking coincidences--?”

“Your brother is on this island?”  Lovino asked.

“I-I _guess_ so.  Ludwig doesn’t go anywhere without his godforsaken dogs—“  He swallowed.  “This one can lead us to my brother!”

 


	7. A Little Trip to the Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update! I spent the last two months writing the rough draft for "Greater than the Sum". Now that that is finished, I can resume updating this and a few other short-chap stories! Planning on working on this, my Pottertalia (Something Borrowed), and maybe my JeanMarco fic the next month or so (since I update in small increments). Might start planning another massive fic in the meantime though, but I don't know which characters to center it around just yet!

Finally, Lovino slithered back down the rock and reached out to graze his fingers against the dog’s wet back.  Its butt wriggled with more intense tail wags before the dog sat, mouth hanging open in a little grin.

“God it smells bad…” Lovino muttered.

“You smell like a fish, it smells like a wet dog,” Gilbert said.  He swallowed, eyes far away, fingers still looped in the dog’s collar as if it might dart away.

Lovino sniffed his own arm and scowled.  “I do _not_ smell like a fish.”  With a sigh, he leaned back against the rock and picked at the cloth binding the wound in his side.  Upon its removal, he found that it was little more than a flushed scar, just barely aggravated with the remnants of inflammation.  He breathed quiet relief.

“You really do heal fast,” Gilbert said, jerking back to reality.  He traced the raised scar carefully.  Lovino winced.

“Still hurts a little bit, but it’s just a little twinge,” He said.  “Yeah, we have to heal fast.  A lot of creatures in the ocean can smell blood and hunt us down.” 

Lovino patted at the dog’s head.  It blinked with every light touch and whined, til Gilbert directed Lovino’s hand to stroke down its back instead.  Laughing, Gilbert took up scratching behind its ear until its hind leg thumped and it tilted its head and leaned to the side.  It flopped onto the ground but used the opportunity to roll onto his back for maximum belly scratches.  Gilbert happily obliged. 

“Storm’s tired itself out,” Lovino pointed out.

It was true.  The wind had died as abruptly as it had picked up.  The silence clashed with the howl still echoing in their ears.  With the stillness came a quiet drip of water from the leaves and the roil of the streambed, which was swollen with floodwaters.

“Should we…go out and see what’s what?” Gilbert asked.

Lovino pursed his lips and slithered over to the mouth of the cave to peer out.  The sky was a tired grey.  “What about those assholes from before?”

“They would have taken shelter.  Probably ran back down to their village,” Gilbert said.  “But I can investigate first.”

Shrugging, Lovino rolled back inside to lean against the wall, absently lifting and slapping his fin against the rock he’d been seated on earlier.   “Yeah, do that.”

Hand still on the dog, Gilbert gently tugged it over to Lovino then, taking his hand, hooked his fingers into the collar.  “Don’t let him escape.  I’ll have to find something to substitute for a leash.  Maybe a vine or something.”  He shook his head, ducking out into the open, a few water droplets striking his head.  “This could be my shot at finding my brother!” he called back.  The foliage cracked and shuddered as he picked his way through.

“Yeah, yeah—“ Lovino called out, though he was sure Gilbert was out of earshot.  “Just hurry it up…” 

He must have dozed off, the drip of water and the humidity closing in on him like a cage.

The dog squirmed free from his limp hold and went crashing through the leaves, sniffing along the moss covered rocks at the edge of the stream until it nosed into Gilbert’s boot.  Tail still wagging, it planted its rump down beside him and looked expectantly up at him.

Gilbert had been resting on a rock, tired after all of the excitement and the poor sleep he’d gotten on the rocky cave floor.  He rubbed at his eyes and groaned.  “Thought I told Lovino to keep an eye on you.”

The dog didn’t seem to want to run away.  Tongue hanging out, it panted as Gilbert scratched absently at its back. 

“This is a mess,” Gilbert mused to it.  “He really would be safer in the ocean, but it’s not like I can just throw him in like tossing a fish back to sea.  You know how much he’d hate me for that?  And he’d be so freaking alone again…”  He sighed but pushed himself to his feet once more, taking a few steps and looking back to make sure that the dog was following.  “Let’s just get back to Lovino and then find your master, huh?”

The dog wagged its tail in agreement, hoping after him in the dents that he made in the underbrush.

Something was not right.

Gilbert stopped in his tracks.  The dog ran into the back of his ankles.

He listened.

The cave was just barely within sight, masked by hanging vines and the swell of a hill on one side.  Just beyond that, three men trekked through the forest, swatting a thick haze of gnats and puffing on cigars.

One pointed.  “There—I’d recognize that albino asshole anywhere—“

“Shit—“ Gilbert ducked behind a tree, but knew he’d have to run; he’d already been seen.  The dog cowered behind him, tail between its legs. 

Frantically patting at his hips and chest, Gilbert realized he had no weapon other than his fists, which he balled up tightly, springing from behind the tree to face his attackers as they approached.  “Don’t mess with me,” he growled.

They looked among themselves, exchanging raised brows and humorless smirks.  One drew a heavy, curved blade and lightly flicked the tip at Gilbert’s collarbone just enough to draw a pinprick of blood.  “We don’t care much about you,” the leader said, “We want the fishboy.”

“That’s funny, because I already threw him in the river.  He’s probably in the sea by now, so look there.  You really think I’d keep someone like that stuck on dry land with assholes like you prowling about?”

The second one cuffed him heavily at the ears.  Gilbert ducked down, head ringing, but darted up again to strike him heavily across the jaw.  Cursing silently, he found the blade back at his neck.

He hardly dared breathe.  One wrong movement and the sinister edge could slice through and kill him. 

“Here is what’s going to happen,” his attacker growled, holding the sword steady.  “We are going to take a little trip down to the ocean, just you and me, while my friends here search the land up here.  Then you’re going to call for your friend and tell him it’s okay to come out.  If you fail to do this, we’ll just chop you up and use you as fishbait.  Sound good?”

Gilbert grit his teeth but nodded.  “Sounds fucking awesome,” he growled.  His eyes darted side to side as he let his attacker prod him into motion.   He just had to wait until the right moment.  There had to be a way to overpower him, sword or not.  He just prayed in the meantime that his partners wouldn’t stumble upon the cave.

They headed down the river like this, the tip of the blade a constant sting between his shoulder blades as he stumbled along.  Gilbert breathed heavily from frustration and the muggy air filling his lungs with syrup.  Hot and sticky, he felt dizziness wash over him in waves, alternating with an icy chill that combated the intense summer heat.  He wanted to vomit.

Beside them, the river was like a swollen scar eating its way through the foliage.  It roared with fury.  Water sprayed past the rocks at its banks, engulfing the bases of nearby trees.

Gilbert lunged forward, as if tripping, but rolled to one side.

His captor snarled a warning and hacked downward with his sword.  It hissed but struck rock with a jarring ring. 

Scrambling to his feet—slipping on wet grass and pebbles—Gilbert flung himself past his enemy then, turning sharply on one foot while the other recovered from the vibrations shooting up his arm, slammed into his side just below the armpit.  They grappled like that beside the river, Gilbert punching with wild abandon.  The attacker screamed, face bloodied, but knocked the hilt of the sword heavily against Gilbert’s forehead.

Seeing stars, Gilbert kneed him in the groin, using the opening to pry the blade from the other’s hands.  He flung it away just as the other gripped his shoulders and rocked them.

His back thudded into the ground.

He kneed upwards and rolled them again.

Rocks dug into his back.  The river screamed loudly just half a foot away.  Gilbert panted and snarled down at the other, seeing red, blood coating his fingers.  “Don’t try anything,” Gilbert managed, “Because I’ll just end up killing you.”

“Ha—“ the other spat.  He wrestled one hand free and jabbed upward with the heel of his hand, striking Gilbert just under his chin.

Gilbert fell to one side and, grappling with the rocks on the bank, hung precariously close to the gaping maw of the river, his grip on shifting sediment his only lifeline.

Panting and cursing, his attacker climbed to his feet and gave the kick that sent him crashing in.

It was over before he began.  Flailing and thrashing against the heavy hold on the water granted him a few desperate gasps of air before the current pulled him under and downstream.  There was a deadly second where he could not breathe, throat spasming, then black and white and colours and bubbles and a heavy weight on his chest as he was tossed and pulled like a rag doll.

Then there was nothing.

Lovino woke to the barking of the dog, come crashing back in through the mouth of the cave.  With it came the two attackers.

Disoriented as he was from sleep, Lovino felt a jolt of panic, coiling himself up, hands curling into fists like he’d seen Gilbert do.  Though, as slow as he was on land, he could not run.  The two men closed in on him, one from either side, keeping their distance from his tail, but growing bolder when the other grappled with the cave wall, as if he could pull himself upright and to freedom. 

“GILBERT—“ he screamed.

If only he had legs.  If only he could spring to feet and run for it.  If only the river was closer and he could swim to safety—

“Don’t be like that,” the first man, bald but wearing a floppy straw hat, said.  “We won’t hurt you…”

The second, an older man tattooed head to foot, nodded, but a glint in his eyes said otherwise as his gaze raked over Lovino’s tail.  “We just want to take you somewhere more comfortable…”

They exchanged words without speaking, caught in met eyes.  One sprung forward and wrapped tightly around Lovino’s arms while the other grabbed his tail.  Though Lovino thrust it up and down, trying to smack the second into the wall, they were able to hold him down til he could do little more than writhe and panic.  He felt the heavy tug of ropes burn against him as he was roughly folded in half and secured, his hands tied behind his back. 

He found himself motionless and hardly able to gasp for breath.

They loaded him onto their cart in a wooden trunk, throwing wet blankets on over him, as if storing fish to be sold to the market place.  The inside smelled rank, like something had rotted in it.  Lovino coughed heavily and struggled in the confined space.  Then, there was only darkness and the creak of wooden wheels as the wagon rocked and swayed.

“Fuck you—“ he managed.

“Remind me to gag him next time we stop,” one said.

“Let’s just find the chief first…” The other answered, “Then worry about him.”  He scoffed to himself, “Usually our game doesn’t give us this much lip.”

Shoulders aching, Lovino squirmed into a more comfortable position.  The middle joint of his tail was lashed tightly around his middle, but if he strained hard enough, he could get his hands down low enough behind him and his fin high enough to slice the ropes binding him.  Breathing heavily, he massaged feeling back into his wrists, then, using the spines that slithered out from the skin of his forearms, cut the rope holding his tail.

He caught his breath and listened.

They were still moving.  Pushing up on the box revealed that there was a heavy weight on it.  He strained then sank back down.  The box was so tight that Lovino was stuck in a fetal position; any maneuvering was painful and difficult.  He groaned but started to touch along the corners, looking for a weakness in the wood.

Finding nothing, he started to gurgle.  It was a slow process, but the acid his mouth produced dripped down onto the floor and started to eat through the wood.

\--

The river spat Gilbert’s body out to sea, where he, miraculously alive from desperately snatched breaths and the speed he travelled, plunged into deeper water.  Ludwig caught the flash of white from the corner of his eye and dove down.


	8. Not the Reunion He'd Hoped For

With no time to acknowledge Gilbert’s identity, Ludwig hauled him from the bottom of the sea and dragged him up onto the shore.  The human lay unconscious, no breath pushing past swollen lips as his head lulled to the side.

Ludwig frowned as he rolled up onto the sand beside him, head to his chest, and then, with one hand on his forehead and the other beneath his chin, tilted his head back.  He opened his mouth and breathed into him twice, so that his chest rose and fell.

Still nothing.

“Don’t give up,” Ludwig muttered, to himself or Gilbert.  He pried into his neck with clumsy fingers.  There was still a pulse.

He pushed air into Gilbert again and again until the other started to stir.  Gradually harsh gasps broke into coughs which splintered into something rough that scraped the very insides of his lungs and throat—until he was curled onto his side, chest heaving and water spilling from his mouth.  Then, whining hoarsely, he emptied the contents of his stomach and lay still, eyes screwed shut.

Ludwig rubbed his back in slow circles until his body went lax again.  “Gilbert…” He muttered.  “Is that truly you?”

Panting, Gilbert could not move.  “Who’s there…?  S’Lovino?  Lovi…?  S’twice now…”  He coughed more.

Ludwig sighed.  “No, it’s your brother.  Ludwig.”

“S’not,” Gilbert managed, “Ludwig can’t swim.  Hates water…”  When he tried to push himself upright, he was met with a spasm of dizziness and a tangle of weak limbs.  Frustrated, he rolled onto his back.  The earth spun.

“Well, I suppose things change,” Ludwig muttered, “whether we plan on it or not.”  He placed a hand on Gilbert’s forehead.

Gilbert only groaned.  “Forget it.  Just…just carry me back up this island, I have to find Lovino he’s in a _cave_ somewhere and they’re after him.”

Brow’s furrowed, Ludwig glanced back down the length of his tail, half buried in the sand.  He frowned and sighed.  “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Why the hell not?”

Ludwig’s frown deepened.  His tail slapped gently against Gilbert’s leg as he looked away.

Yelping, Gilbert shot upright and scrabbled away, slipping on the sand as he took great fistfuls of it to support himself against a fresh wave of dizziness.  His stomach heaved again.  Fresh coughs racked his body, but he grit his teeth and shook his head, staring at the ground.  “The fucking hell…?”

“This is not the reunion I hoped to have,” Ludwig said.

“You—why the hell are you—how the hell--?”

“It’s a long story,” Ludwig managed, “One I constantly question myself, to be honest…”

Gilbert groaned.  “That doesn’t answer my question.  How the hell did my little brother become half shark…”  He rubbed at his head and stared at the slick tail, grimacing a little at the fins cutting into the sand beside him.  “I’m going to be sick.  I am going to literally puke everywhere…”  He held his stomach tighter and screwed his eyes shut.

“You already have vomited everywhere,” Ludwig said.  “Please don’t do so again…” 

“I have to get to Lovino,” Gilbert repeated, this time with more urgency.  He lacked the energy to claw his way farther up the shore so he lay there biting back angry curses.  “I don’t—I can’t deal with this right now.  Not when Lovino is going to die…”

Ludwig tensed.  “Lovino?  That Merman who was hanging around here?  He’s managed to get himself captured?”

“It’s my fault,” Gilbert said, “I took him up onto land.  I knew it was a terrible idea, but he was so desperate that I couldn’t not help him.”

Pensive, Ludwig drew back a little bit.  “The best I could do is swim up the river, though the current is much too strong right now.”  He sighed a little bit and put a hand on Gilbert’s shoulder to still his angry thrashing.  “You are in no condition to climb up this island, brother.  Here is my proposition.  You will get some rest and I will find some fish for you to eat.  If you humor me on this, then perhaps I will tell you my story…”  His heart sank in his chest a little bit as the tips of his ears tinged red with shame.

It was a story that still hurt.

Finally, Gilbert calmed down and nodded a little bit.  “Fine, but as soon as I’m strong enough, I’m going back up there and kicking their asses…”

“If you follow the river, I will follow alongside,” Ludwig promised.  “I am still formidable even without legs.”

Gilbert made a sound of acknowledgement deep in his throat, but his body went lax as his exhaustion finally reclaimed him.  Though raspy, his breath was even.  Ludwig watched him a moment before retreating back into the waves where the heat of sun couldn’t dry out his tail. 

This was not the reunion he wanted, he realized with a pang of sadness.  Had Gilbert just shrugged at his absence and moved on?  He swallowed back the hurt, though, and focused on picking out the glinting flash of scales, ready to strike with his spear.  He’d never mastered how to hunt with his teeth like a true Merman. 

It took a few hours, but the acid dripping from Lovino’s mouth slowly ate a hole through already rotting wood until he could fit his fingers through and start prying at the corner of the box.  Uncomfortable as he was, he shifted aside, arms twisted at an awkward angle and tail piled on top of him.  The cracks in the wood betrayed late afternoon and Lovino’s body screamed for sleep.  Beneath him, the wagon creaked on, but lurched to a stop. 

Lovino froze and withdrew his fingers.  If he listened hard enough, he could make out the murmur of voices, which faded with the crunch of gravel.  Was he alone?

He waited another moment, then decided that his captors had left.  He could only hope they would not return soon.

Lovino redoubled his efforts until a chunk of wood splintered away.  Pain prickled where jagged edges bloodied his hands, but he hissed and continued working until the lower half of the box lay as discarded pieces outside. 

It would be a tight squeeze.  Lovino flattened himself and used his tail to slowly ease himself from the tiny opening, whimpering slightly as the edges raked across his shoulders and hips, then slithered out onto the ground in a mess of sweat, blood, and dirt.  He lay there panting.  Still nothing.  The wagon sat in front of a log cabin, the horses chewing idly on grasses poking up through the gravel road.

Luck was on Lovino’s side.  Carefully, slowly, the Merman rolled himself to the side of the road, where brush was kinder than the rocks jabbing into already tender skin.  He’d have to find water, he realized, his stomach turning at the blood smeared on the gravel and discarded scales gleaming in the sun.  Otherwise, they’d be able to track him and—at the rate he squirmed to safety—he’d never outrun them.

“Just gotta find the river,” he told himself as he started taking fistfuls of grass to help pull himself along.  Foliage cracked and shook in his wake.  This spurred him to drag himself faster, slithering his tail like a snake to gain momentum though the dirt and brush clogged his gills and ripped more scales from his tail.

The trickle of water lighted upon his ears.  With a hoarse exclamation that sounded more like a whimper than anything, Lovino forced himself even faster until he rolled clumsily down a muddy bank and plopped into a thin stream of water.

His shoulder slammed against rocks.  He cried out.  “The fucking hell—“  Rolling over, he splashed around--anything to rehydrate his tail—and dipped his head down to wash out his gills, his chest heaving against the urge to sob.  “It just fucking rained—this is—this doesn’t make sense…”  Still, he was grateful to wash at the numerous slashes crisscrossing his skin before sitting up to investigate. 

Just upstream there was a stagnant little lake, which he slithered toward until completely submerged.  As murky as it was, he was completely hidden, so he dipped down and explored the bottom, desperate for fish but finding only algae and sludge then finally the base of a huge dam that towered over the little valley.  He surfaced and stared up at it, one hand on the stone.  Only a little bit of water spilled out over the top, the rest contained in the reservoir above.

“The fuck would someone cut a river in half for,” Lovino muttered.  “Humans are so fucking ridiculous…”

At least here he could hide.

After a few minutes of rest, Lovino continued his exploration, ears strained for signs of life in case he needed to duck under the water to safety.  He found that the lake was seven feet deep at the center and thinned out on the edges, and that the grass was more dandelions than actual grass.  Then, hauling himself up partially on the shore, he noticed a little stone cottage not unlike the one he and Gilbert had stayed in, though this one was overgrown in thick vines which flowered purple. 

He hesitated, noticing the tang of smoke in the air, then realized that it was coming from the chimney.  “Fire..?  I guess they light fires in their houses to keep warm, I remember that…” 

He frowned deeply and retreated a bit, glowering at the cabin as the slow realization that it was inhabited twisted anxiety deep into the pit of his stomach. 

“Of all the fucking places to be stranded…”

A face appeared at the window—Lovino dove under the water with a hefty splash of his tail—but not before staring right back into bright green eyes widened in surprise.

“Shitshitshitshitshit _shit_ —“ Lovino muttered.

He’d just wait it out; he could stay under water indefinitely—though that would offer no progress toward finding Gilbert.  His heart sank in his chest a little as he twiddled his thumbs, lips pressed into a line.

“You better fucking be alive,” he muttered.  “O-or else.”

Ripples along the surface betrayed heavy sloshing at the edge.  Lovino dove deeper so that he was resting on the bottom and listened.

Another splash, this one cleaner and less like a monster lumbering through a swamp.  The ripples vanished.

“The hell…?”  Lovino surfaced, bewildered, but saw nothing.  The smoke from the chimney had dissolved into little more than wisps.  The door to the cabin was left swinging open.

But he saw no sign of the human around or in the water.  Huffing, he slipped back under, so that his mouth and nose were beneath the surface but eyes above so he could scan the water further.

He felt the vibrations of movement before he heard the splash. A head popped up right in front of him, vivid eyes meeting his with a triumphant flash, brown curly hair plastered around his ears.  Startled, Lovino didn’t think to dive back under.

“Hello!”  This human tread water near him.  Though cautious, he smiled gently.

Lovino’s brows knit into something fierce, but he wasn’t sure what to make of this good-natured face and friendly demeanor.  “Who the fuck are you?”

The human pointed to himself, head cocked.

“Who the fuck else would I be talking to?” Lovino grumbled.

This only made the human laugh.  Embarrassed, Lovino scowled.

“The name is Antonio Carriedo,” the human finally said.  “Please don’t be alarmed, I was just curious about who was swimming in my lake—then I saw your tail and I had to go and say hello!”

“…Is that all?” Lovino asked.  “Not going to try to sell my scales or something?”

“…No?”

Lovino huffed, but drew nearer to poke his chest.  “Keep it that way, asshole.”

Antonio smiled brightly.  “Sure thing.”  Then, glancing back at his cabin, he started a gentle sidestroke back to the shore where he could laze out in the evening sun as it touched orange and purples over the sky, lighting the water with the rippling reflections. 

Cautiously, Lovino followed.  He kept his tail under the water and scowled at Antonio as if daring him to stare.

“So, you are stranded here, yes?” Antonio asked, glancing from the dam to the thin trickle of water of rocks where a great river once cut through the land.  “You fall off over the dam or something??”

Lovino shook his head.  “No.  I, uh, escaped some assholes and ended up in this sorry excuse for a dump.”

Antonio glanced around, half pouting, but shrugged it off, stretching out to curl his toes a bit.  “Well, if you need to get somewhere, I know a guy who can help.  It might not be _ideal_ but…it’s transportation.”

“I need lots of water,” Lovino said.  “Can’t just sit in wet blankets all day.  Stresses my body out…”  He leaned up against the shore, head on his arms but eyes still on Antonio.  His stomach gurgled a little bit, but he was too exhausted to acknowledge it.

“There is water involved,” Antonio promised.  “After dinner—you do like fish, don’t you, because I bought a lot at the market this morning—I’ll see if I can send a message to an old friend of mine.  He’ll…explain to you how it’ll work.”

“How _what_ will work--?”

“They don’t give free rides,” Antonio said, shaking his head a little bit.  “But Feliciano—“

“—Feliciano?!”

 

 


	9. Maybe Your Story will be Different than Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ludwig shares his story with Gilbert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that took a while. Somewhere between moving (twice!) and starting grad school, I just haven't had much a brain for writing lately. This story (and the prequel/spin-off) are my projects for April's camp NanoWriMo, so expect updates all throughout April and maybe a bit into May. (: Gonna beat this writers block!

Gilbert was convinced that Ludwig had been a fever dream.

Of course Ludwig wasn’t half-shark and of course he wasn’t just prowling the shallows.

He was…he was off exploring distant lands with a band of archeologists, just barely grown but already so intelligent.  One day he’d packed away his few belongings and headed for the vessel swaying out by the docks.

The last Gilbert had seen of him was his shadow retreating from the door --his promise to return somehow empty and the brush of his fingers against the wood like a mournful sigh.

With no reason to stay, Gilbert had taken to the seas on his own adventure, with a band of traders that made a poor substitute for a brother.

Something teased through the bangs plastering his forehead.  Groaning, Gilbert shifted.  A fresh deluge of pain cracked his skull.  Even the cool of night burned through his skin.  His nerves were on fire. 

His voice splintered past ragged panting.  His tongue felt like parchment, but the back of his throat was slimy.

He rolled to his stomach and eased himself to his hands and knees, eyes screwed shut, and hacked away at it, spitting out gobs of mucous into the sand.  Pounding a fist to his chest, he dry heaved, then sat back onto his legs.  His eyelids fell open as his head rolled back.  He let sand filter through curling fingers as he stared at the sky.

That was one thing he had not known in the bustling port city—the stars.  His first night on that ship, sweating after a day of heaving rope and pushing mops across the deck, he’d slept up top with nothing but a blanket.  That was when he understood that the sky was just as vast as the sea.  It was the first time his breath had been snatched from him.

It was the only good thing that had come from the sea.  That and Lovino. 

“They really are beautiful…”

Alarmed, Gilbert’s fists tightened in the sand.  It crumbled and spilled from his fingers.  He did not glance over.  “Oh, so I wasn’t dreaming.”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Ludwig said.  His voice was as gentle and as steady as the breeze settling along the coast, curling into the cove like a cool embrace.  “How are you feeling?”

Gilbert’s eyes finally glanced in his direction.  “Like I’ve been hit by a barge.”

“Understandable,” Ludwig answered with a low hum.  Moving slowly as not to startle his brother, he carefully tugged his tankard from Gilbert’s belt and offered it up.  “I filled it with fresh water from the stream.  You really should drink something.”

Grunting, Gilbert knocked it back, gurgling as he slurped it down.  The water flushed the back of his throat and pooled into his stomach, where it fended off the boiling mass of anxiety and hunger.  Then, finished, he clasped the tankard on his lap and continued staring at the stars, eyes glassy.

“We’ll find him,” Ludwig said.  He’d pulled himself closer, his tail hollowing out a path in the sand.  He positioned it gingerly behind him, bent where the knees would have been.

Gilbert’s grip tightened on the flask.  “We have to,” he said.  His voice was strained and his shoulders shook.  “He trusted me, Ludwig.  He needed me and I have to keep him safe—he—he saved my life, goddammit, and I can’t even return the favor.“

“You will.”  His touch gentle, Ludwig pressed a hand on Gilbert’s shoulder.

They sat in silence as the stars writhed overhead.

Finally, Gilbert turned to truly inspect his brother, the corner of his mouth tugged into a little frown.  His eyes widened as sharpness returned.  “Lud…wig?”

Ludwig did not move.  “Hm?”

“You’re here—“  Gilbert blinked rapidly, then winced, curling into himself as he bit back a curse. 

“I pulled you from the ocean,” Ludwig said.  He felt his own shoulders shake a little.  He swallowed back a lump in his throat.  "We've been talking for a few minutes already.  Brother, are you sure you're alright?"

Gilbert continued to blink, brow furrowing as he dug the heel of his hands into his eyes.  He glanced to the tail then back to Ludwig’s face.  “Oh good god.  You’re here and you’re _alive_ and you’re—you—how are you--?”

“It’s understandable that you are groggy.  Hurling down that river and nearly drowning takes its toll.”

That frown tugged deeper.  Gilbert ran his hands over the bend in Ludwig’s tail.  “You didn’t answer my question—“

“Oh, right” Ludwig answered.  “You probably don’t remember, but I did promise to tell you some of the events leading up to…to _this_ —“ he gestured to his tail, brow knitted.  “Please, just drink more water first.”

Gilbert gulped down a little more and threw it aside.  He hesitated, watching his brother massage his temples.  Everything in him—save for heavy limbs and seething nerves—screamed at him to embrace Ludwig.

To hold him tight like he’d done so many times in their childhood.

But his body remained motionless.  He stared down at the ocean.

Finally, after a few moments, Ludwig released a heavy sigh.  He wrapped his arms lightly about his elbows, as if succumbing to a slight chill, tilted his head back, and spoke as if in another world.

“You know how I hate the ocean.”

“Well irony is biting you in the ass,” Gilbert said.  There was no humor in his voice.

Ludwig’s laugh was just as spent as the heaviness Gilbert felt.

“Well, leaving for the journey to become an archeologist was…torturous to say the least.  I spent most of it heaving my breakfast over the rail.  There wasn’t a day I was not nauseous.”  His fingertips moved from his temple to his forehead, then pushed his hair back from his eyes.  Strands shifted back down again.  “We got to the archeological site and I was able to help them with the excavation, but the going was difficult.  A huge wave had uncovered remains of a city that had become smothered by the shore over the centuries.  We had to work in the period where the tide was low and hope that the waves did not wash anything away.  It was a slow process…”

“I can imagine.”  Gilbert spoke so quietly it was as if he had not said anything at all.  He, too, rubbed at his forehead now. 

“It was mostly roofs that we uncovered, oddly ornate roofs.  But one day I was working alone as my two partners headed into town to get more supplies.  I had to…walk across one of the roofs to reach a pillar in the center, but it caved in.”  With a wry smile, Ludwig only shook his head.  “The chamber was not filled with sand as I had expected, save for on the floor, which was crusted with algae and seashells, like the tide also visited the inside.  The walls were more like…the walls of caves.  I couldn’t climb out, plus I had turned my ankle, so I investigated what looked like a tunnel snaking out toward the ocean.”

“That was…this island?” Gilbert asked.  “Your dogs are here.  Or, the one was…”

“A neighboring island,” Ludwig admitted.  “The dog managed to track my scent, I suppose.  He comes and goes.  Dogs aren’t really designed to live in the ocean, and I can’t take care of him properly.”

“Neither are humans,” Gilbert muttered.

Ludwig only continued.  “Before I could reach the mouth of the tunnel, something slithered out and warned me to keep my distance—that the tunnel only led to the ocean and that I’d probably drown if I got stuck.  That’s how I met him.”

“Him…?”

“Feliciano.  The Merman.”

* * *

 

Antonio was surprisingly strong.  He’d hefted Lovino up as if he weighed nothing and carried him into his little shack, settling him onto what he referred to as a daybed.  Then, quietly whistling to himself, he set to soaking towels to drape over Lovino’s tail.

“You’ve dealt with a Merman before,” Lovino said quietly, tugged at the corner of one of the towels.  He stared at the water splattered on the floor.

With a bright smile, Tonio only nodded.

Lovino gnawed on his lip.  “Feliciano, I guess,” he breathed, looking around.

The cottage was surprisingly large inside, but cozy.  On one end a dropleaf table staggered under the weight of strange knickknacks—bits of net, nesting dolls, trinkets, chains, old shells—nestled between splayed out books and stubs of candles planted into stone bowls.  The kitchen retreated beyond that, comprised of a simple woodstove and an island still littered with jars of spices, a cutting board, and a few knives.  The fish crackled in the stove, the skin already peeling back and the scent jabbing at Lovino’s stomach as it churned in anguish. 

The other side of the room was much neater—just a bed hugging the wall beneath the still open window.  A breeze fluttered through sheer curtains and tugged at the flower vines teeming the outside wall, until the scent wandered in and mingled with the fish.

Lovino took a deep breath and stared at his hands.  So Feliciano must be alive—and somehow he’d found his way this far inland.  He felt a pang of hurt, though, wondering why he’d trekked so far up the island and never bothered to contact his own brother.  The ocean had never felt as empty when he’d thought Feliciano was gone from it.

Antonio must have been able to sense the heaviness that Lovino felt, because he draped the wool blanket from his bed over his shoulder and gave his back a little pat.  That same smile persisted.  “We’ll get you to your destination easily!” he said.  “For now, let’s just relax.  They just happen to be passing through here on one of their long journeys.  You’re lucky, really.”

“How are they supposed to help me?” Lovino asked.

“Big BIG tanks of water,” Antonio said, eyes widening for effect.

“Why the hell are they carting shit like that around?”

“Because they train dolphins,” Antonio said.  “I don’t condone such things—keeping creatures locked away in little boxes, but Feliciano is a good guy and will make sure you make it to the ocean without any worries.”

“So…Feliciano is…traveling with these people?”  How could his brother trade the infinite ocean for glass walls?

Tonio nodded brightly, but then scurried toward the stove to prod at the fish.  Satisfied, he tugged it carefully from the flames with a pronged tool, and let it slide onto a plate.  It steamed there and sizzled.  “Yes, yes,” He answered.   “You seem to know him really well.”

“Yeah,” Lovino mumbled.  “He’s my brother.”

* * *

“A merman,” Gilbert said.  “So you met one too?”

Ludwig nodded, but his eyes retreated back into that other world.  For one who spoke so tenderly, as if sheltering the memory, his brow knit with such pain.  He turned his head to one side to watch the waves surge the shoreline.  “Look, Gilbert.  When you find him, make sure he goes back into the ocean.  Don’t keep chasing after him.  Our worlds don’t belong together.”

“You’re one to talk,” Gilbert snapped.  “Look at you.”

Ludwig’s tail slapped the sand as shoulders tensed, but a sigh emptied him out and he fell lax again.  “I know…”

“What _happened_?” Gilbert asked.

“Against my better judgment…I fell in love.”

Gilbert’s mouth fell open, but he snapped it shut.  “Well I was talking more about the fucking tail than your miserable pessimism, but okay.”

“Right,” Ludwig said.  He tried brushing his hair back again.  “I will get there as efficiently as possible.  Please bear with me.”

The waves lapped higher, coating the sand with a slather of foam.  Wind hurled itself out over the ocean with a muted howl.  In the distance, clouds mumbled and flashed.

“There was something about him that I instantly liked.  He did help me out of that hole, but he also helped me out of a slump of my own mind’s making,” Ludwig continued.  “Maybe he just taught me out to enjoy myself a little.  Let loose.  Laugh, even.”  Never had a laugh sounded so brokenhearted.

“But things got complicated,” Ludwig said.  “I was naïve and maybe he was naïve too.  I should have known to keep him secret, but the two of us were so determined to make a life together work.  If I’d only known what my own race would do when they found out the magical properties his scales possessed.  I suppose I had more faith in humanity.”

“Well that was your first mistake,” Gilbert said.

Ludwig shrugged.  “Back then, there were many of his kind.  They usually kept to themselves far from the island, but with Feliciano’s daring, they started sun-bathing on the beaches.  The islanders welcomed it.  Most of them thought merpeople were a myth.  Our town became something of a tourist attraction, and the merpeople were treated with utmost respect, like royal guests.

“But then things became complicated.  A plague took hold of many of the inhabitants, including the princess, who was just a child at the time.  An alchemist got a hold of some of Feliciano’s scales and figured out how to extract the magical properties.  He used it to heal her.  Then…it became a…a…”

“Bloodbath,” Gilbert finished.  The word struck a hollow ring in his ears.  “Lovino’s family…”

Ludwig nodded with a sharp intake of breath and wiped at burning eyes.  He did not cry.  “I guess I did not know the full extent of it until after the fact,” Ludwig said.  “Feliciano and I had trekked up into the mountains by then.  He had a love for streams and trees and fruit, and I figured it would be an ideal living situation for the two of us.  But then I heard rumors and I tried to convince him to return to the ocean.  He didn’t know the extent of it either, but he refused.”

Gilbert pressed a hand on his shoulder with a light squeeze.  Ludwig glanced at him then back toward the ocean.

“I told him to wait for me and went into town to find a cart to transport him; I would not take no for an answer when Feliciano’s life was at stake.  But then I saw…I saw the carnage for myself.”  He shuddered, teeth grinding.  His voice ground into rushed snarled.  “Hanging there like fish carcasses, being scaled and filleted and—and—“ 

Ludwig swallowed, his breath heavy and desperate as his chest heaved.  He continued shaking his head as if he could somehow undo it all.  “I have never been so ashamed to be human.  Had, I guess.  I went to see the witchdoctor in town.  I knew that Feliciano would never leave, and who could expect him to return to an ocean only to be alone.  So I…I traded all that I had on land—my house, my money, everything—to become…become this.”  He gestured to his tail with a sigh.

“Damn…” Gilbert said.

“I had to swim up that river to find where I’d left Feliciano…but he was gone.  There was no sign of struggle, just evidence that he’d dragged himself to the river and vanished.  I’ve been searching and searching but…nothing.”  Ludwig ground the heels of his hands into his eye with another sigh.  “I told him to wait.  I…I told him I would return—and I’ve been swimming circles around this ocean for too many years searching.  I’ve given up, I truly have.  I just wish I knew what happened to him, so I could have some closure.”

Ludwig tensed as strong arms enveloped him, and Gilbert half crawled onto his scaly lap to bury his face into his chest and pat at the back of his head, like he’d comforted his little brother when they were both young. 

“I’m sorry,” Gilbert said quietly.

Ludwig’s chest vibrated with a low hum.  “It’s the past.”  He reached over to scoot the flask closer and prodded at Gilbert’s shoulder with it.  “Drink more water.  You have to make sure your friend is safe.  Maybe your story will be different than mine.  Just…please take my words into consideration and learn from my mistakes, if you can.”  He offered Gilbert a weak smile which tugged into a frown all too quickly as he stared into the distance again.

Gilbert slurped at the last of the water.  “Right,” he said.  He rolled to his hands and knees and shoved himself upright.  Grunting, Gilbert fought for balance as the world lurched and spun.  He lunged toward Ludwig’s shoulder, where he steadied himself before taking a few cautious steps.  Once he was sure he was stable, he trudged up the beach. 

“I’ve had enough rest,” Gilbert said.  “You said you’d swim the river once it was calmer.  Looks like the water is a little less crazy than it was before, and time is not something we have a lot of at the minute.”

Ludwig nodded.  Awkwardly, like a snake, he flopped onto the sand and half scooted, half rolled himself into the river.  The current caught him off guard, sending him tumbling backwards head over tail, but he sorted himself and popped up to the surface.  His tail was powerful enough to keep him stationary even as the water cut around him.  “This is manageable,” Ludwig said.  “Let us find your friend as quickly as possible.”

Finally, a slow grin cracked out over Gilbert’s face.  “Yeah.  Got to make sure that bastard hasn’t gotten himself hurt somehow.  Plus I have a few asses to kick, shoving me into the damn river like that.”

“If it makes you feel better.”  Still, Ludwig could not ignore the pound of his own heart in his chest.

It was just like old times.  Gilbert and Ludwig against the world.

 


	10. You Can't Just Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated between posting 5 pages or more along the lines of 11 or 12. Thought I should be more consistent with previous chapter lengths (and both spots ended at a good stopping point). Don't worry, I'll update again early(ish) next week. Ya'll have my REALLY obnoxiously loud upstairs neighbors to thank for this update tonight rather than tomorrow or sunday. can't sleep with them yelling and screaming and thumping around. at 1:40 a.m. swell. really. :/ I'm not bitter. 
> 
> wordcount is 16.7K/50K for this month.
> 
> my next series I'll go back to longer chapters, oh goodness, hehheh.
> 
> (chapter names are random and on a whim, idk)

Antonio carried Lovino on his back in a special sling; a series of criss-crossing leather bands, several of which wrapped Lovino’s tail around Tonio’s middle.  Still, he clung to Antonio, arms around his neck and chin on his shoulder, grip almost enough to cut off his air.  The blankets draped over Lovino pelleted the ground with water droplets.

Antonio coughed a little.  “Hm, Lovino?  If you’d please—loosen your hold.  I won’t drop you, I promise.”

Lovino did as he was told, but prodded awkwardly at his chest.  “You say that, but your dumb leg balancing act looks dangerous as hell.  How are you not falling on your face all the time.”  He sighed and his chin thunked back onto his shoulder, eyes sinking shut and open again.  He yawned.  “How far is it, anyway?”

“It’s just a bit up that hill,” Antonio said.  He shifted the straps so that they bit less fiercely into his shoulders, then pointed up ahead where a plume of smoke ate at the golden glow of dawn.  “That must be their campfires.  I knew they would be passing through soon enough.”

“You didn’t have to wake me up so early,” Lovino muttered.

“There’s no telling how long they’ll be stopped,” Antonio said.  He walked a little faster.

“Yeah, well, what if someone sees me who shouldn’t?” Lovino asked.  Another yawn nearly ate his words.  He rubbed at his eyes.  “You can’t exactly run really fast with me on your back.”

“No one is awake at this hour,” Antonio assured him.  “And few people come up this way unless they’re passing through.  I’d hear anyone a long way away and hide if needed, but I doubt we’ll meet anyone.  I walk this area all the time without coming across another person.”  His voice radiated a sleepy smile.  He reached back to pat at Lovino’s arm.  “It will be okay.”

Lovino groaned and tightened his hold slightly.  At first, every step was an awkward lurch—but eventually his fatigue caught up with him and the human’s easy pace rocked him back to sleep.

* * *

 

There was no awakening as rude as being slammed into the ground.  Lovino’s shoulder took the brunt of the blow, but his hip and tail thrashed through nettles.  Debris bit into his skin as he rolled.

“Fucking shi—“

A hand smothered his curses, and then there was Antonio—looking as battered as Lovino felt—staring desperately into his face, eyes wide as he held a finger to his lips.

Lovino swallowed a distressed grunt.  It took all his willpower not to writhe against the belts still tangled around him, though Antonio had shaken loose of the shoulder straps.

They’d rolled down a hill into a rocky valley.  Even subtle movements prickled at the underbrush and shook the grasses.  They lay as if stone, motionless save for darting eyes and hurried breathing.

Sticks cracked and gravel scattered at heavy footfalls on the path above.  A horse whinnied and huffed.  Their pace slowed and stopped.

They waited in overbearing silence; Lovino screwed his eyes shut, ignoring the comforting squeeze at his forearm and the coolness of a rag to his forehead.

“It’ll be okay,” Tonio mouthed, continue to dab where sweat beaded Lovino’s skin. 

Finally, the gravel shifted again and the horse, snorting, trotted forward until the crunch of its hooves was just an echo.

“You said you wouldn’t fucking drop me—“ Lovino hissed.  He bunched up into a fetal position, arms locked around the joint in his tail, then glowered at Antonio from that position.  “That hurt, you ass.”

“I am sorry,” Antonio murmured.  Cautiously, he rose then started scavenging the towels scattered down the hill, dropping them on top of Lovino one by one.  The last landed on his face, but Antonio’s laugh was gentle and his voice chiding.  “Merpeople heal fast, no?  You’ll be just fine.”

Lovino swiped at the towel, but held it to his chest with a little frown.  “You know a lot for a human,” he said.

“I suppose I do,” Antonio answered.  He squatted down to shrug into the shoulderstraps again, then hefted Lovino up with a few lurching steps.  Then, stumbling from tree to tree, he ascended to the path.  “I hope that is the last we see of anyone,” he said.  “The troop should be just ahead.”

They smelled the fire before they saw it.  The troop settled in a ring of tents circling the fire pit, a few logs discarded near it, where several men slumped with their tins of oatmeal or chunks of bread.  One poked at the fire with a stick, but it did little more than spark and spew out smoke.

He glanced back over his shoulder.  “Antonio Carriedo.”

A sheepish smile spread over Antonio’s face as he raised one hand in greeting.  He approached carefully.  “Francis, my friend.  I am glad to find you well.”

When they shook hands, Francis cupped both his around Antonio’s one.  A weary smile barely touched his eyes.

Even coated in ash and filth, Francis Bonnefoy was something to look at.  He did not wear much finery, but the blue was as deep as eyes that somehow outsparkled fatigue cut deep in the tender areas of his face.  Even greasy hair was well-kept in the pony-tail secured at the nape of his neck.  He stood with an easy grace, as if he were in a palace rather than a forest, and the log he’d been seated at was more a throne for nobility than a dirty hunk of rotting wood.

Lovino watched him from behind Antonio’s shoulder, his eyes narrowed.  “Who the hell are you?”

Francis blinked as if noticing him for the first time, finally tearing his gaze from Antonio—his hands lingering too long on his friend’s—then cocked his head.  “I see you’ve brought company.”  His lips pursed in thought.  “A Merman, no?”

Antonio nodded.  “We did not come without purpose,” he explained.  He surveyed the camp with one sweeping glance.  His eyes took in more than his expression let on, somehow sharp on such an easygoing face.  He could make out the shape of the wagon train curling around the grove, hidden by patches of trees.  The bright colours of chipping paint did little for camouflage, and Antonio could hear the stamp of horse hooves and the snarl of lions.

Francis followed his gaze with a little shrug.  “I figured you hadn’t.  What is your intent, my friend?”

“I was hoping to speak to Feliciano,” Antonio said.

Lovino tensed.

Francis glanced back at the wagon train.  “The fishboy?”  Francis said.  “I haven’t seen him in about a week.  He might be in a stream somewhere with the dolphins.  He’s insistent on his training techniques, and hates them being cooped up in those boxes.”  He shrugged.  “You would have to ask the ringmaster.”

“Is he awake?” Antonio asked.

Francis shook his head.  “He won’t be for a little bit, with the express demand that he is not to be disturbed.  You know how Abel gets.”

“All too well,” Antonio said.  He shifted his stance a little.  “You don’t suppose we could put my friend Lovino here into the water in the meantime?  He’ll dry out.”

“Of course—of course—“ Francis said, ushering him in that direction then unhooking the latch to one of the wagons.  A paneled wall swung open to reveal the wall of a glass container taller than Antonio.  Water slopped up toward the lid as he swung himself up onto the ladder stitched up its side.  He gestured at Antonio to follow.

It was difficult to scale the ladder with Lovino’s weight pulling back at him, though the Merman clung as close to his back as possible.  With some huffing and straining, he heaved himself onto the roof and collapsed spread-eagled with Lovino still wrapped around him.  Scowling, Lovino prodded at the back of his head and squirmed.

Francis started unbuckling Lovino until he could wriggle free, then directed him toward a hatch.  It groaned as he yanked it open.  “In you go.”

Lovino sighed long and hard, ignoring the cracked burning in the back of his throat that mirrored the sting of a drying tail.  He slithered in.  Though stagnant, the water flushed his senses and eased the irritation that had been prying its way between his scales.  He felt his skin soften and the pressure settling into the back of his skull lighten.  His relieved sigh came as a plume of bubbles from his nose.

Antonio and Francis continued to converse on the wagon roof, but their voices were far off echoes to Lovino, who was more interested in exploring his tiny prison, prodding at the corners with his fingers and patting along the floor for trinkets.  He found a few coins and a metal rod, which had been cut with notches and hollowed out.  A whistle or flute of some kind.  He tucked it behind his ear and pressed his face against the glass to squint out over the camp.

Through the mosaic of water, he saw a few more members stumble out toward the fire.  Nothing interesting.  He turned to prod at the back wall, which was covered by the panel on the opposite side.  Boring too.

This was going to be one tedious journey, but anything beat clinging to Antonio’s back.  The water, though stale, would at least prevent him from drying, even if he could only just barely stretch to his full length along the floor.  Swimming freely was out of the question.

He lay on the floor, staring up at the sky through the hatch til he saw the wavering shadows of Antonio’s and Francis’s faces peering down at him.  With a groan, he sprung to the surface, head popping up inches from theirs.

Startled, they stumbled back.  Francis maintained his balance, but Antonio fell to his ass with a loud thud that sent dark vibrations down through the tank walls.  Lovino winced.

“Will this be comfortable for you?” Antonio asked.

“Compared to how shit was, yeah, I’ll put up with it,” Lovino said with a shrug.  He sank down so that only his eyes remained above the water.

“Good,” Antonio said with a nod.  “You should be completely fine.  I’d trust these people with my life—and I have on more than one occasion.  I will ask them to take you to the ocean along their own journey.  I apologize if that takes longer than a direct route, but it was the best I could think of.”

“Wait,” Lovino said, pulling himself up the hatch, so that he was clinging half out the water.  “You can’t just _leave_.”

Antonio blinked fast and wide.  “Hm?”

Lovino’s expression shifted into a mix between a glower and a pout, but then his brow furrowed and he frowned.  “You’re an asshole.  You can’t just drag someone into a weird situation and fucking leave them—“

“I am not on great terms with the ringmaster,” Antonio admitted, with an uneasy chuckle.  He rubbed at the back of his head and looked away.  “I wish I could stay, but I told you that you are in good hands.  Plus, you were looking forward to seeing Feliciano, right?  See, I haven’t left you alone at all.  I just helped you to the next person.”

Lovino huffed and sank back into the water, turning his back on Antonio as he settled to the bottom of the tank.

“L—Lovino,” Antonio said.  He knew his voice would not penetrate the water.  He sighed and rubbed his temples, shaking his head. 

“I do believe that Merman is giving you the cold shoulder,” Francis said.

“I’ve only known him for a day, and he’s already a handful,” Antonio admitted.  “I do hate to leave him.  He won’t admit it, but he’s so vulnerable and scared…”

“You don’t have to leave,” Francis said.  “You and Abel may not be on the best terms, but he cannot deny your talent.  His sense for business would win out over his disdain for you.”

“That wasn’t very comforting.”

Francis kneaded into his shoulders with a little hum, til Antonio’s head flopped to one side and his back hunched.  He groaned a bit and melted backwards into Francis like a rag doll.  Francis tugged him closer in embrace. 

“You are too persuasive,” Antonio muttered.  “Between spending time with you and protecting this boy, I don’t have much a choice, do I?”

“I suppose not,” Francis said.  “Let’s talk with him as soon as he wakes.  Maybe we can find Belle first.  She tends to get her way a lot when it comes down to it.”

The wagon swayed as the two climbed down.  Francis rapped on the side of the tank with his knuckles and gestured toward the camp.  Antonio gave an awkward little wave.

Lovino turned his head but narrowed his eyes at the pair til they vanished beyond the trees.


	11. The World Stops for No One

Between Gilbert’s awkward shamble and the current, the trek inland was an arduous one.  At Ludwig’s insistence, the pair stopped every half hour, Gilbert slumped over with his feet in the water and Ludwig clinging to the bank beside, panting heavily.

After a few hours of this pattern, Gilbert collapsed near one of several saplings starting to spring from the land at regular intervals, rooting deep into a mix of sand and dirt.  Ahead, grass claimed more of the beach and the forest grew thicker.

“Oh fuck…” Gilbert said.  His throat cracked, and he slurped down handfuls of water.  It dribbled down his chin, then dripped down his hair as he dumped it on his head.  He blinked past the water stinging his eyes with an agitated snarl, then let his forehead thunk into the dirt.  “This is getting us nowhere.”

Feeling guilty for being unable to truly help Gilbert along—to even offer a shoulder to lean on—Ludwig glanced back down the short distance they’d conquered.  At this rate and Gilbert’s current energy level, they would not find Lovino in time. 

Ludwig sighed.  “Are you feeling dizzy again, brother?”

Gilbert shook his head with a scowl.  “No, just fucking useless.”

“You can’t hope to make this journey without more rest.  Or even without food,” Ludwig said quietly.  His brow furrowed.  “Please…”

He shook his head again.  “We don’t have _time_ —“ Groaning, he clawed his fingers into sparse grass and yanked.  It ripped from the loose soil and he flung it away.  He paused, fingers already snarling into a fresh patch, but let his hands fall lax before pushing himself to his hands and knees again, fueled only by desperation.  Panting, he caught Ludwig’s eyes.  “Wait.  I know someone in this area who knows about Lovino.  I’ll just—he has a wagon—he can…he can help.”

“Is it far?” Ludwig asked.

Gilbert staggered to his feet.  “No, not very.  There’s...now that the river has been filled again, it’s—it’s right on this path.  We just have to make it to there.”

“That seems very doable,” Ludwig said.

With fresh resolve, Gilbert pushed himself further past his limits, half ripping at low hanging branches like ropes that could pull him along.  His feet barely lifted high enough to skirt underbrush; thorns raked bloody paths across his ankles.  Ludwig swam in the stream beside, silent but ever-watching, his shark’s tail moving side to side, the one dorsal fin slicing a V through the surface.

They reached the abandoned mill within the hour, tucked deep in a grove of oak trees.  Here the river became more turbulent, with crops of rocks cutting eddies into tumbling water.  Ludwig twisted and climbed over shallow patches to avoid where the banks bulged inward with the cages of exposed tree roots.

“Wait here—“ Gilbert said.  He flung himself toward the mill, slamming into the door and pounding at it with his fist in the same motion.  The force knocked him back a little.

Arthur opened the door almost instantly, a rapier at his side.  Alfred glanced up from where he’d been chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter.  “What is the meaning of thi—“ Arthur demanded.

Breaths ragged, Gilbert shook his head and put up a finger as he heaved through a disjointed explanation.  “S’Lovino—attacked—just lend me—wagon—captured—“

Arthur blinked wildly, but then his eyes fell on Ludwig, waiting at the bank of the river winding past the edge of the old mill, near where the wheel still turned by the ribbon of splashing water.  Ludwig’s frown deepened and he turned his head to one side.

“R-right,” Arthur said, yanking his gaze back to Gilbert, who was now slumped against the doorframe.  “My wagon, was it?”

Gilbert could only nod.

“Under the condition that I might accompany,” Arthur said.  He turned to gesture to Alfred.  “Hm, Alfred?  Pack a few of our things and ready the horse, would you?”

“Can do—“  Alfred bounded off toward the back door.  It swung and slammed shut.

“Fine,” Gilbert muttered.  “I—I just have to find him.”

“I understand,” Arthur said.  He dipped his head into his hand so he could pinch at the bridge of his nose.  “This is a right mess, isn’t it.”

“I don’t feel like talking about it, I just want to make it right,” Gilbert snapped.

“I understand,” Arthur said.  “I just wish I could have prevented it.  I wanted to impress upon the two of you the dangers of this world to him.  I thought you would have driven him back to the ocean once you saw the wares at the marketplace.  I never thought—“

“Shut _up_ —“ Gilbert snarled.  “Shut up and just—just fucking provide the damn wagon so I can save him.  I don’t need ‘I told you so’s from the likes of you—“

Arthur flinched but he nodded, tugging at his collar a little bit.  “Right.  Alfred and I will be coming from around back as soon as we’re ready.  I hope you can wait that long.”  He eased the door shut, with Gilbert still standing there.

Gilbert pushed off it with an annoyed grunt, pausing only to kick the base, then stalked back to Ludwig.  He plunked himself down on the bank, legs crossed.  “Fuck that guy.”

“Agreed,” Ludwig muttered, expression taking on a rare darkness as he fidgeted with a pebble on the shore.  Agitated, his tail slapped at the water behind him as he streaked his forearm across his eyes. 

“Wait—what?”

“He meddled in my affairs as well,” Ludwig said.  “Indirectly.  It was his alchemy that brought use of the scales to the humans.”

“So we’re blaming him for the massacre now?” Gilbert asked.  “Because we can totally stab him in the throat and just steal his damn stuff.  Asshole pisses me off anyway.”

With a deep breath, Ludwig shook his head slowly and swallowed.  “He couldn’t have known it would happen.”  The words seemed to hollow him out.  He anchored himself tighter to the bank, his biceps locking so his shoulders would not shake.  “As much as I want…some kind of justice, I can’t just throw blame around.”

“You could,” Gilbert muttered.

“The blame falls on too many people to count.  People who feel no remorse.  To them it was the same as slaughtering seals for fat or fish for meat.  I cannot forgive them for their acts, but to take a life for a life would only spill more blood,” Ludwig said.

“Stop being so rational,” Gilbert said, but his fists loosened on either side of his lap.  Idle fingertips picked at grass as he waited.  “S’hard to be rational when someone you care about is in danger for no damn reason.”

“That is why you have me,” Ludwig said, patting at his calve.  “We may be different now, but we’re always brothers.”

“Thanks.  Ludwig.”  His hand reached down to meet Ludwig’s and he gave it a little squeeze, though he kept his eyes on the mill and waited, body like a coiled spring.

He did leap up when Arthur returned, seated on the plank at the head of his wagon, reigns in hand.  The eyes of the horse rolled as it whinnied and bobbed its head, chomping at the bit though it walked an easy pace.  Alfred swung himself down from the back and led the horse closer to the stream, murmuring to it and patting at his neck.  It trusted him, whickering at his commands, and moved close even toward the rush of the river, til the wagon swung round to meet the pair.

“Finally,” Gilbert muttered, but his rage had settled down and there was no bite in his voice. 

He reached a hand down for Ludwig, who clasped at his forearm and allowed him to tug him out onto the bank, with considerable help from his free arm and powerful tail.  Once grounded, he grappled with the back of the wagon, performing a pull-up while Alfred and Gilbert scrabbled on to grip at his shoulder.  Heaving and grunting, the two were able to drag him into the wagon.  They fell to their asses to catch their breaths, but immediately Gilbert rose to start dipping blankets in the bucket of water and draping them along Ludwig’s tail.

Ludwig nodded his thanks as he settled into one corner, where he could sit upright and grip at the wagon sides better.  “Do you know where you are going?” he finally asked Arthur.

Arthur shook his head.  “Gilbert is the one who saw him last.”

“Oh shit…” Gilbert muttered, rubbing at his head, which had begun to throb.  “Um, well we ran up the beach away from the marketplace, and were headed up the mountain.  It was pretty forested and definitely near the river.  A cave.  If they found him, then maybe they left traces of where they went.  Hasn’t rained since then, I guess.  Don’t know, was unconscious.”

“I’m not sure about caves,” Arthur said, “But we can follow the river easily enough.  The horses are skilled at traveling the forest, so long as we stick to the paths cut through the underbrush.”

Alfred gave a low whistle.  The bit of straw bobbed from the corner of his mouth as he moved his lips around it.  “This is starting to sound complicated.”  He looked backward at Arthur, head tilted far back.  “Well, babe, I suppose we move as fast as we can.  Once we get to a place that looks familiar, I can hop out and start to look for caves.”

Arthur clicked his tongue and whipped the reigns up once.  The horses whickered in response.  The wagon swayed and jolted as their hooves chipped away at the path.

Alfred kept one hand on the side of the wagon, but dug through his pack til he produced a bundle, which he unwrapped to reveal several quiches set into a cracker crust.  He handed two of them off to Gilbert, who handed one to Ludwig.

Gilbert had not realized just how ravenous he was until the quiche was under his nose.  He devoured it in four bites, nearly choking as his cheeks puffed out to accommodate it.  Spewing crumbs onto his lap, he coughed and sputtered, but swallowed and leaned back to catch his breath. 

Ludwig stared dubiously at his and set it aside without a word as he watched the road.

“Not much of an appetite?” Alfred asked.  “I mean, I made them myself, so I can vouch for some awesome flavor!”

“It’s funny,” Ludwig said softly, “How I’ve lost a taste for most human foods.  The only thing I can really get down is fish.”  He pulled a face of disgust, shuddering.  “I used to detest fish when I was younger.”

“Not even fruit?” Gilbert asked.  “Lovino kept talking about loving fruit…”

Ludwig blinked.  “So did Feliciano—but I, I haven’t thought to try…”

“Hey, you’re in luck--!”  Alfred grinned and shifted himself to his feet.  He swayed like a surfer, legs spread to keep his balance as he reached up to pluck at a peach hanging low from the branch of a tree.  In the last minute, peach in hand, he ducked another oncoming branch, then dropped to the wagon floor in a squat.

“Careful,” Arthur said.  “I’m not stopping to pick you up if you fall out.”

“Yeah, yeah, so you say,” Alfred sang.  He passed the fruit along to Ludwig.  “How about it, then?”

Ludwig turned it over in his hands.  The fuzz was like velvet.  Then, slowly, juices dribbling down his chin, he bit into it.  And chewed.  And bit again.  He paused to wipe at his mouth with his forearm, but an inkling of a smile found his eyes.  “This is wonderful.”  He chewed carefully.  “Thank you.”

Alfred’s grin spread wider.  “Glad I could help!  Let me know if you want more.  There are tons of fruit trees along these parts and I like to make Arthur worry about me.  It’s win/win.”

“You cheeky bastard,” Arthur grumbled.

They traveled in relatively comfortable silence for the next half hour.

Finally, as they passed the remnants of the marketplace—tiny matchbox booths scattered throughout the dunes below—Gilbert shifted upright.  Teeth grit, he leaned from the side, eyes studying the trees and underbrush for signs of distress.  The glint of something snatched at the sunlight.

“Wait,” he said.  He swung from the wagon, landing on his feet, dropped down, and began clawing through the dirt and foliage.  At last, he plucked up a scale.  “This.”

“How did you see that from over here?” Ludwig called out.  He was leaning so far that he had to grip the sides to not overbalance.

“Eyes of an eagle, I guess,” Gilbert joked, though he was now fixed on the hunt, scavenging around for more clues.  He found where he’d kicked through the brush on his wild dash, and where Lovino’s tail spines had slashed through the bark of several trees.  “No wonder they found us so easily the first time…” Gilbert muttered.

“We’re close, then?” Arthur asked, directing the horses toward the edge.  He pointed at Alfred, “Love, you need to lead the horse from here.  The trees are a little close for comfort.  Tell Gilbert not to run too far ahead.  The going will be slow.”

The wagon was relatively narrow, but maneuvering through the trees was a work of patience and skill.  Brambles and brush snagged the wheels as the horse weaved in and among the trees as Alfred guided it in as straight a line as possible.  Several times he had to backtrack to avoid areas where the trees were too tightly clustered. 

Gilbert did not wait as warned.  Already he was making a full sprint toward the cave, where he clawed at the seaweed hanging down.  Inside, he found nothing, just the rock he’d left Lovino on.

“No surprises,” Gilbert snarled, pacing back and forth as he thought.  Finally, exhausted, he sank down onto the rock and pulled his fingers through his hair, leaning forward to rest his chest against his knees.  “Shit.  Shit.  Shit.”

After some time, the creak of the wagon and the snap of twigs shifted his attention to the mouth of the cave.  Alfred ducked in. 

“Told you not to run too far ahead,” Alfred said.  “Well, Arthur told you.  But you get my gist.”

“He’s not here,” Gilbert said.  “Wasn’t expecting him to be, but I was just hoping.”

“There are other rivets cut into the dirt here, though,” Alfred said, pointing.  “That’s probably your culprits.”

Gilbert leaped to his feet.  “Good,” he said, jogging back outside to inspect.  He saw where the lines were faint furrows but cut into deeper gouges past the cave.  That must have been Lovino’s added weight, the heavy bastard.  He jogged ahead of the wagon, til his feet dragged.  Brambles snatched at his ankles.  He tumbled into a tree with a sharp grunt, but caught himself midway down.

“You’re still weak,” Alfred said.  He held the reigns in one hand, helping the horse along still.  “Hop in and conserve your energy, remember?  Plus Ludwig looks so lonesome back there!  And you don’t know how long of a walk this’ll be.  Didn’t you want to kick some asses?  Can’t do that all tired out!” 

“Yeah…” Gilbert said, reluctantly, climbing back in. 

The wagon lurched faster as the trees thinned again.  They followed the path already torn into the forest, til they started up a rocky hill and climbed back onto the path snaking up the island.  Alfred took his cue to climb back into the vehicle, this time sitting next to Arthur and plunking his head sideways into his shoulder.  “I do good?”

“Hm, yes, love, you did well,” Arthur murmured.  His head turned, as if to glance back at the passenger, but he thought better of it and kept his eyes straight ahead.  He sat that much stiffer and the silence pressed that much heavier on him, though the wheels creaked and the leaves rustled.

* * *

 

They did find Belle.  She sat in her tent sharpening daggers for an act, grinding a rock down each blade with a metallic hiss, her movements steady.  She arranged them tip first in the dirt when she was finished, and rose to sip at the skin of water as she tied the legs of her pants up to her knees.

“Belle,” Francis said, ducking inside.  “I’m sorry to bother you—“

Belle pushed past him to embrace Antonio.  The force of her thrown weight sent him staggering backwards.  Half laughing, half grunting, he held tight to her and widened his stance to regain his balance. 

“Tonio!” she said, smacking at his ears with a devilish grin.  “You decided to come back?”

“If the ringmaster will have me,” Antonio said, setting her on her feet.  “And only temporarily, I think.  I am doing really well at a stationary life.  I like where I live.”

“Oh, he’ll have you if I have anything to say about it,” Belle said.  She tugged at his hair, but took a step back to look him up and down.  “Hmm, well you obviously aren’t starving at your new life.  We weren’t sure you could make it on your own.  Elizabeta said you’d come running back.  Abel said you wouldn’t, but we’d find you in jail somewhere.”

Antonio rubbed at the back of his neck, head tilted.  “I am glad to see how much faith you all have in me…”

“The point is, we missed you,” Belle said, lip jutting out but eyes still shining.  She twirled around to pluck up the daggers, and slid them into her belt one by one.  “What is your business, then?  You know, we need a good firebreather act again, Tonio.  No one speaks to fire as beautifully as you do.” Both her hands found her hips as she batted her eyes at him.

“I need Feliciano,” Antonio said.

She narrowed her eyes as her mouth spread into a thin line.  “This isn’t about all the crap that happened a few years back, is it?  We agreed never to bring it up again.  He still has _nightmares_ about it.”

“Why would you assume—“

“You’re the one who brought him here to escape it,” she said.  “I can’t think of a good reason you’d suddenly need to see him.  Especially after leaving us in the first place.”

“It’s actually quite…different,” Antonio said quietly.  “I don’t intend on pulling Feliciano out of this place.  Not now that he’s finally found some peace.  But I do…have his brother with us.”

“His…brother?”  Already, she was to the tent flap and pushing her way out, sprinting for the tanks.

“Okay, I’m not sure if that went well,” Antonio said, glancing over at Francis, who only shrugged.

“Who can tell with her,” he said.  “But if she’s on your side, then Abel can’t complain too much about you returning here.  His dislike of you has always been a façade anyway, but I think you hurt him when you left the first time.”

“I needed time to myself,” Antonio said, shrugged.  “Even if it meant leaving my family.  There is a lot for a person like me to figure out.”

“Better do so on your feet,” Francis said.  “The world stops for no one.”  He chuckled, one finger at his temple, and ducked from the tent to follow after Belle.  “Good luck speaking to Abel.  You should see if he’s awake.  I’ll make sure Belle doesn’t overwhelm Lovino.”  He left Antonio standing between the tents, palms up.

“Right, this will be not fun…” Antonio said, quietly kicking through discarded ashes of dead fires. 

The coals crumbled to nothing beneath his feet, not a spark left in them to bite at his shoes.  Pausing, he knelt down to feel the earth there.  Still warm.  They left a chalky darkness at his fingertips, which he ground into his palm then lifted to his nose.  He inhaled deeply, lost a moment in the memory of smoke and flame.  Like others danced with silks and scarves, Antonio had danced with ribbons of flame.  It moved as fluidly as he, a living thing not tamed but willing.  A powerful thing.  A dangerous thing.

He let his hands fall to his side, still black, then approached the tent.

“I do wonder if Francis realizes he’s sending me into a dangerous place,” Antonio mused as he rang the bell hanging from one side.  It was not loud, but Antonio tensed.

“Enter,” came the gruff reply.

 _I was hoping he’d be asleep and would not hear_ , Antonio thought.  He carefully pulled the flap aside and stepped through into the silent soaked dimness.  The tent rustled with the breeze outside.  Somehow even the sounds of the camp became more distant, even as the fire nearby crackled and men clicked forks to tin as more and more stumbled out with the mounting sun.

Abel was seated at a wooden desk where he’d spread out curling manuscripts.  He scratched away at them with an old pen, pausing to dip it into a jar.  When he lifted the pen, he shook it a little, then tapped it against the jar with a dull clink.  The excess plopped back in and he continued to scrawl notes.  Abel never wasted so much as a drop.

For a ringmaster, Abel did not dress in finery.  He admitted, begrudgingly, that any successful circus would look the part—and that customers would pay more to see performers decked in the finest silks and gold bracelets, but he did not see any need of that for himself.  The former was an investment, the latter a waste of money for one often behind the scenes.  He wore little more than long pants and a worn vest over a white shirt.  His hair spiked tall like a crown, the only embellishment he needed.

Finally he finished writing and blotted the paper, dragging it aside to set.  He’d crammed figures into neatly spaced columns, his writing tiny but precise.  Sighing, he interlaced his fingers, elbows on the desk, and looked up. 

What would have been cool indifference melted into confusion, which he quickly masked with flashing eyes and a slight frown.  “Antonio.  You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”  He raised one eyebrow.

“You act like I personally attacked you,” Antonio said quietly.  “All I did was leave.”

“We depended on you.  People came to see your act.”

Antonio sighed.  “I was hoping I would have been missed for other reasons.”  Still, he offered a slight smile.  “I needed time to collect myself.  There was a lot I was struggling with.”

“Thought you were just pissy because you got burned,” Abel said.

Antonio shook his head.  “I lost focus.  Fire is a beautiful but dangerous thing.  One can control it, but one cannot trust it blindly.  I will never fear it for being what it is.”  Subconsciously, his hand strayed to his chest, where a silver streak shot across his pec like a comet’s tail.  It was masked by his shirt, but Abel’s eyes flicked to the spot as well. 

“You still left,” Abel said.  He snatched another piece of paper and started to tap the pen against the inkjar again.  “Don’t know if I have time to deal with you.”

“Time is money?” Antonio asked.

“No, money is money.”

Antonio’s hand fell to his side again.  He glanced down, lips pursing, when he realized the ash from his fingertips had transferred to the white of his shirt, just over his heart.  He wiped at it with his sleeve.  It only smeared more.  A short, biting laugh clawed its way from his throat, and he took a few steps forward, til he rested both hands on Abel’s desk.

“You hate it when I beat around the bush,” Antonio said.

“I do.”

“So I will say it.  I have a proposition for you.”

This time Abel set the pen down and raised both eyebrows.  “Go on.”

“I will…sign a contract for the next two years if you allow me to use your water tanks.  I will dance for your circus til my feet bleed and every inch of my body is scorched.”

“Feliciano is already using them,” Abel said.  “What would you need them for anyway.”

“I found another Merman,” Antonio said.

Abel’s brow furrowed.  “Where are you _finding_ these,” he muttered.

“Seems I have a way with both fire and water,” Antonio said.

Abel seemed unimpressed, but he carefully settled his pen into a little case and shut the inkpot.  One by one he rolled up his parchments and secured them with little ties.  These things he deposited in a little leather bag.  He stood.  Even without his hair, he was a few inches taller than Antonio.  “Just what is your purpose of bringing him here?”

Heart sinking into his stomach, he realized that Abel would not so easily agree to a detour to the ocean.  Not when the profits lay along the path he’d marked for himself up the mountain and around the island.  It would be months before Lovino got back to the ocean at this rate.

But then an inkling of inspiration hit him, and he spoke quickly, realizing his mouth had been hanging open into the silence.

“He needs to find someone,” Antonio said.  “A human.  But he cannot travel on land by himself and it is difficult to find and maintain large tanks of water without the resources you possess.  Plus, in terms of protection, I know how strong your men are.”

With a low hum, Abel nodded, his eyes betraying little as he mulled this over.  “You will sign the contract, but so will he.  As long as he is benefiting from my resources and my protection, he will perform.  I’ll have Feliciano work with him on an act when he returns from the rivers.”

Antonio’s gaze pierced right back.  “Putting him on display will put him in unnecessary danger.  You know what happened to the Merpeople at our people’s own hands.”

“Like you said, my men are strong.  I won’t let anyone touch him.”  He stuck out a hand.

Gnawing on his lip, Antonio took it.  Abel’s handshake was firm, borderline tight.  Antonio winced.

“I’ll write up the contract tonight,” Abel said, dropping the other’s hand.  “You and the boy will sign.  And don’t worry about him.  You know how I am about family.”  The same hand that shook Antonio’s clapped down on his shoulder and gave what could have been a warm squeeze, though Abel turned away to finish clearing his desk before the moment even came to realization.

Antonio saw this as an opportunity to see his way out.

“Oh and Antonio?”

He paused, midway through the front flap of the tent.  His head cocked to one side.

“Don’t second-guess yourself ever again.  S’waste of time.  You’re family.  You belong.  Now get out.”  He waved him off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh oops I doubled the chapter length
> 
> 5 pages was driving me crazy. Too short.


	12. A Valuable Asset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you all feel about the longer chapter lengths? Or anything in general, idk. (:

“This is curious,” Arthur said.  He’d tied the horse up at a hitching post in front of a diner.  Though the aroma of roasting meat and freshly baked bread wafted out, he was more interested in the splinters of wood ground into the road.  He kicked at one and it pulled apart like pulp, like something rotted.

Alfred swallowed back an urge to vomit, clasping both hands over his mouth.  “Ew.”

Gilbert tossed himself heavily over the side of the wagon to inspect as well.  “I mean, that could mean anything.  Wood’s probably been sitting there for quite some time.”  He, too, kicked at it, but flinched back as a fetid stench crept deep into his nose.  No amount of furious puffing could sweep it from the inner recesses of his head.  Eventually he turned away, arm pressed to his nostrils.  “That’s not natural.”

“You’re telling me,” Alfred said.

Ludwig, hanging over the side of the wagon, cleared his throat a little.  “If I may…that’s probably a sign that Lovino was here.  I was unfortunate enough to discover this ability not too long ago.  It’s an acid that Merpeople can secrete from their salivary glands.  It’s even more so unpleasant when it’s foaming from your mouth.  Trust me.”

Gilbert snapped his fingers.  “No, this is _good_.  This is good.  This means he’s…he’s escaped?”

“Where would he have gone?” Alfred asked, glancing around.  He saw nothing but scrubland beyond the diner and the road they’d been following winding back down the mountain and cutting back into the forest. 

“Any rivers nearby?” Gilbert asked.  “I know we left the one a long time ago, but there are several on this island…”

“Just an old dried up one,” Arthur said.  “The people in these parts built a dam a few years ago.  He couldn’t have travelled by it.”

“But maybe he smelled water and went looking for it,” Gilbert said.  He went crashing through the underbrush at one side of the road, arms snatching and clawing at the leaves. 

“What in heaven’s name are you doing?” Arthur asked.

“Looking for scales,” Gilbert said.  “If he had to drag himself along the dirt, he had to have left some behind.  I just need an idea of what direction he went.  I don’t…if he’s traveling alone and on land, then he could be—he could dry out quickly.”  The thought of Lovino weak of dehydration, helpless and too parched to call for help lit a fresh fire in his veins.

Alfred joined him.  Arthur stuck to the road, but kicked and shuffled in a cloud of upturned dust, eyes squinted for the telltale flash of scales.

“It’s possible that someone picked them up.  They glint in sunlight pretty brightly,” Arthur said.

“You…you suddenly know a lot for someone who initially claimed to think that Merpeople were fictitious,” Gilbert grumbled.  He was baiting Arthur plain and simple, agitated with him at last.  Ludwig shot him a warning glance.

Arthur hesitated, his eyes darting to the wagon where Ludwig sat watching them, then scuffed around the dirt more.  “I’ve done my research,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, whatever.  Just suddenly I wonder how reliable your story is, what with the massacre that happened a few years back.  That seems like a hard thing to ignore.” Gilbert said.  He watched him a few moments more from the corner of his eye.  He was now rubbing his hands through the dirt, squatted down.

“You knew little of it either,” Arthur retorted.

“Babe.”  There was a strange harshness to Alfred’s voice.  He shook his head and turned away. 

“Let’s just focus on the task,” he said after some silence.  A forced cheeriness made his syllables a little too bright.

Gilbert glanced up to catch Ludwig’s gaze.  The Merman’s lips were pressed in a thin line, but he did not speak.  His arms were crossed.

“Tired of dancing around the issue,” he muttered to Ludwig.  “He has to fucking know that we know about what he did.”

“Still,” Ludwig said.

Alfred eventually crashed into the underbrush again, where he disappeared into a cluster of shaking bushes and cracking sticks.  He emerged like a diver coming up to breathe, holding something up between his thumb and forefinger.  Translucent, it bent the light into something shimmery, like a gossamer silk.  “It’s one of Lovino’s, I would guess.”  He lumbered from the dense foliage and, bypassing Arthur, pressed it gently into Gilbert’s palm.  “That’s the right colour, yes?”

Gilbert nudged it with a finger, then turned it over slowly in his hand.  Sitting there against his skin, it looked much like a flake of rock.  It wasn’t until he lifted it up between himself at the sun that it set alight. “Yeah, I think so?”  It was caught between indecision of blue and green, shifting like a mosaic when he tilted it one way or another.  If he remembered correctly, Lovino’s tail was a mottle of blues and greens and browns.

Slowly, he nodded, slipping it into his pocket, fist still tight around it.  If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine a pulsing warmth, but that might have been his own heartbeat.

“Right,” Arthur said.  “Then it follows that he followed the scent of water.  If we’re lucky he found that lake pooled below the dam.  If that’s the case, then he’s probably fine.  It’s murky enough that he can hide easily.”

Gilbert brightened a little.  “Good.  That means he won’t be suffering when we find him.”

“I could use some real water,” Ludwig said softly.  “I can help search the lake when we reach it.  If he’s truly on the bottom somewhere, my voice will reach him even under the water.”

“I wonder how that works,” Alfred said.  “I mean from a scientific perspective.”  He straightened his glasses with a little grin.  The wagon lurched side to side as he threw himself in.

* * *

Lovino blinked at Abel with the tiniest of frowns.  Every time he tried to skim the paper, his eyes would wander to the peak of his hair.  He curled his fingers onto the edge of the desk where he’d been seated, swathed in wet blankets, and looked away.  This cycle repeated several times.

Finally, Abel grew impatient.  “What is the problem?”

Antonio snorted and nudged Francis, leaning over so he could whisper in his ear.  “He’s completely entranced by Abel’s hair.  I can’t imagine what would happen if he tried to touch it.”

Lovino’s eyes darted to them.  He’d heard. 

Swallowing, he took the pen and leaned over the paper.  The scrawl of words, though artistic with its precise marks and careful spacing—making up for lack of embellishment with perfectionism—made little sense to him.  He weighed the pen in his hands as he pretended to read.  It was heavy.  Cold.  The tip was a dented triangle tapering to a sharp point.

The breath left him.  His tail flapped idly against the desk leg.  “So, the terms are that I help you with your show and you let me travel with you…?”

“It’s written,” Abel said.

Lovino looked blankly at Antonio, who nodded behind Abel’s back.  Understanding crept into his eyes with a hiss of surprise.

“He can’t read,” Antonio murmured to Francis.  “Feliciano could so I just assumed…”  His fingertips itched to get a hold of that parchment to read the terms for himself.  Abel was a good man, but he loved a binding contract and he loved money almost as much as he loved his family.  Who knows how he’d treat a stranger.

Antonio groaned internally as Lovino flattened the parchment down on the desk.  It rolled up again.

Impatient, Abel scattered tiny weights on the four corners to hold it in place.  “You can suggest provisions,” he said.  “Or alterations.  It is negotiable.”  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as if fending off a migraine.

Lovino held the pen tight in his fist as if it were a dagger rather than a writing implement.  He stared from the end to the pot of ink and sloppily jabbed at the liquid.  The pot teetered as the tip glanced the side.  Ink sloshed up, but as the vibrations settled, the desk remained untainted.

Antonio hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.  He followed Abel’s gaze to the pot as well, and let out a low sigh of relief.

“I would like to offer up one provision,” Antonio finally said.  “Before he signs.  He knows little of the human world, living in the ocean.  It is only fair he has a lawyer present.”

Abel raised a brow, but gave a nod of deference.  “So you’re a lawyer now?”

Antonio nodded.  He chided himself a little.  He’d signed his without a second thought, without having read beyond a scathing glance.  This time, he bent over and pored over the manuscript.  Lovino, scooting away, held the pen awkwardly above the table, watching Antonio mouth the words to himself.

Finally, Antonio eased the pen from Lovino’s hand, dipping it into the ink again, and started to scratch out a few more terms.  His chicken-scratch, loopy and disjointed, clashed with Abels’ manuscript.  By the time he was finished, he’d added several lines, which sloped downward across the page.  Grinning uneasily, he picked up the paper and handed it to Abel.

As Abel skimmed the notes, Lovino nudged at Antonio.  “What did you write?”

“That you are to be paid the same as us and will be offered protection,” Antonio said.  “And that your term will end with the regular season.  If you haven’t found your friend by then, you are welcome to stay as long as you work, but without a minimum date.”

“How…long is a season?”

“According to Abel we’ve just started ours.  It usually lasts two months,” Antonio said.  “They travel pretty far inland.”

Alarmed, Lovino gripped at the edge of the desk.  “I—Gilbert won’t be much beyond the beach.  What happened to taking me to the ocean?  I wanted to go to the ocean—“

“The shoreline is dangerous,” Antonio said quietly.  He wilted a little beneath Lovino’s glare—eyes flashing both fear and desperation.  “Dangerous and large.  If you travel with this band, you will be protected.  Word travels.  If you don’t hear word of him, he surely will hear word of _you_.”

Francis, one hand on Tonio’s shoulder from behind, nodded. “It’s true.  There aren’t many Merpeople around.  Word will travel and Gilbert will undoubtedly hear of it.  You’ll gain the safety of this crew as well as a way to advertise your presence.  He’ll come.”

Understanding dawned on Lovino.  “Oh.”

“These are acceptable,” Abel finally said, flattening out the paper in front of Lovino again.  He’d already signed.

Lovino yanked the pen from Antonio’s hand and hacked away at the paper like a five year old drawing in the sand.  The result was a blotchy and smeared series of streaks and one loop.  When he dropped the pen, it rolled.  He put his hands, now stained with ink, in his lap with a solemn little nod.

One brow twitching, Abel blotted the ink and waved the parchment to allow it to dry.  He rolled it up, secured it with a little ribbon, and plunked the contract into his bag.  Then, he rested a hand on Lovino’s shoulder.  “Welcome to the crew.”  A rare smile touched his lips, but vanished when he turned to Antonio.  “See to it that he meets the rest and that he’s comfortable enough.  And clean the tanks.”

Without another word, he wandered off.

Antonio deflated, but joined Francis in patting Lovino’s back, grinning for his sake.  “You’ll like it here,” he said.  “Performing can be fun as well.”

“You left, so it couldn’t have been all that great,” Lovino said.

“I needed time to think,” Antonio repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.  “But that’s the beauty of family.  You can always come running back when you need them.”

Lovino stared down at his lap.  Under the desk, he wrung at his hands and cracked at his knuckles.  His voice came out hoarse when he finally did speak.  “I hope Feliciano is okay.  I hope he remembers me.”

“Of course he will,” Francis said as he started gathering up the blankets.  “He talks about you a lot.  He misses you.”

“Did he sign a contract?” Lovino asked.  He grunted as Francis hefted him up and started strapping him into the harness on Antonio’s back.  His arms found their way around Antonio’s neck and his cheek against his shoulder.  “Is that why he couldn’t come back to find me?”

“Initially,” Francis said.  “But…there are many reasons.”

“O-oh…”  Lovino turned his head, so his face was buried.  His grip tightened.

“Not because—not because of things he could control—“ Francis was quick to say.

Antonio sighed and reached up to pat at one of Lovino’s hands.  “You can ask him.  He knows his reasons better than we could.  Just…”  That hand tightened around Lovino’s.  “Trust me when I say that he will be overjoyed to see you.”

With a sniffle, Lovino nodded.  “He better.”

“Right,” Antonio said gently, “Let’s get you to the campfire.  Dinner is probably almost ready and you have an entire crew to meet.”

He felt the damp of tears and snot prod into his neck as Lovino buried his face.  The Merman nodded a little bit and clung that much tighter.

“But only if you’re up to socializing with a lot of people,” Antonio said.  “It can be overwhelming, I am sure, especially so far from home and among a completely different species.”

Lovino only huffed a little and bapped at his leg with his fin, as if urging a horse along.  “I’m hungry,” he said.

They emerged to a throng of people clustering the fire, many with sticks held out into the flame, impaling sausages that bubbled and sizzled in the heat.  Near the base a nest of rocks heated potatoes until their skin split and steam popped out.  Abel saw to it that they lowered wired cages of onions and peppers down into the fire.

“Need vegetables.  Not paying doctors bills because you don’t eat healthily,” he mumbled.

“See, you really do care!” Belle said, punching his shoulder.

He shot her a look and stalked off to mumble something about proper nutrition and finances.

As Antonio approached the flame, the heat glanced off his skin, and Lovino clung tighter, ducking behind his shoulder where he found relief from its insistent glower.  It hissed and crackled, rearing up and sputtering down as it writhed and danced.  Peaking over, Lovino ducked again as one of the men prodded at the pile of sticks with a metal poker.  With a huge pop the fire shifted.  Sparks tumbled down into the soot piled along the base, falling stars that fizzled out.

“Are you alright?” Antonio asked.

“It’s too dry,” Lovino managed.  His voice cracked.

Wincing as Lovino’s nails dug into his shoulders, Antonio took a few steps backwards, outside the bubble of scathing heat. 

“You don’t like the fire?” Antonio asked.

Lovino shook his head.  “Not big ones…”

Antonio sighed a little.  “I suppose it makes sense.  It’s probably not comfortable to you.”

Frowning, Lovino shook his head and slapped at him with his fin again.  “It’s too hot.  S’going to burn everything down.”

“No it won’t,” Antonio said gently, petting at his wrist again.  He ignored the tail whipping into his legs, though spines sliced into his calves and left pinpricks of blood that soaked into his socks.  “We know how to contain the fire.  See?  It won’t move from that spot.  Provided you don’t…go up and put your hand in it and the proper precautions are taken to control it…it won’t hurt anything.”

Lovino grunted a little.  “It’s angry.  Can’t cage it.”

“It’s not a living thing, Lovino,” Antonio said patiently. 

He hummed a little, watching the camp chatter among themselves.  Some were already pulling their meat from the fire and wrapping the sausage in bread.  Juices dripped down as they ate.  His own stomach whined in protest at the aroma assaulting his nose.

“If you’d like, I can return you to your…your tank,” Antonio said.  “Perhaps what you need is a little sleep.  I can go fishing later as well so you’ll have something to eat.”

Lovino only shook his head, chin heavy on Antonio’s shoulder as he stared ahead as well.  Finally, reluctantly, his grip slackened, fingers nothing but loose curls and his arms hanging down from Antonio’s shoulders.  “No,” he said.  “I-I will go near the fire.  Just—just make sure I won’t dry out.  Because I will—“

“Of course—“ Antonio said.  He looked to Francis with a hopeful little smile.  “Do we still have those practice pools?  I’m thinking we can fill one up so Lovino can lounge out and maybe get a bite to eat.”

Francis nodded.  “Of course.  Feliciano uses them all the time.  I’ll find one and fill it up.”

Minutes later, Francis came dragging what resembled a shallow tin pan.  He moved slowly, water sloshing down the sides as he tugged backwards, inch by inch. 

“Hold on—“ Antonio said.  “Log!”

With surprising speed for one so heavily burdened, Antonio lunged forward to roll away a log that had been inches from his next step. 

Francis glanced backwards with an appreciative nod.  “That would have been embarrassing,” he said.  He grunted a little and continued to shuffle.

With the scrape of tin on dirt came the attention of most of the camp.  Elizabeta had a sausage half to her mouth as she stared.  “What’s…all this for—“  Her eyes darted to Antonio then up to Lovino.  “When did we pick up this guy?”

“Today,” Abel announced, stepping into the circle.  “He signed the contract this evening and will be joining our band of performers.”

“—Family—“ Belle coughed into the back of her hand with a little smirk.

Abel continued as if he’d heard nothing.  “You will respect him and his rights as a crewmember.  He is a valuable asset and we will protect him.  We don’t need a repeat of that clusterfuck a few years ago.”

“Asset…?” Lovino muttered.

Antonio chuckled a little.  “He has a reputation to uphold, my friend.  Don’t take his words too personally.  You’ll find that he cares more than he’d ever like to admit.”

There came a general murmur among the camp.

“S’name is Lovino,” Abel continued, staring them down.  He coughed a little and went back to where he’d been slicing up apples with his dagger.

Belle pranced up.  Belts crisscrossed her waist, where at least a dozen daggers gleamed and swayed with her movement.  “Here is your official welcome,” she said, grinning wildly. 

She handed him one of the breaded sausage, which Lovino stared dubiously at.  It burned his tongue as he bit down, and almost immediately he spat it out, coughing violently.  “S’ _hot_ —“ he said.  He wiped at his mouth with his forearm and grimaced.

“I think he prefers fish,” Antonio said.

Before Lovino could respond, the next few people were upon him.  Elizabeta wore a corset and a tiered skirt, which belied her graceful prowl forward.  One hand reached up to grip at the bow slung across her shoulder.  “I’m Elizabeta,” she said.  “I shoot arrows through miscellaneous objects on top of the heads of the tightrope walkers.  From the ground.”  She flashed him a grin.

“It’s true,” Francis said.  “If it were anyone else, I would be dead, I am sure.”  He chuckled.  “I am one of the walkers, in case you were wondering, but my main role is cook around here.”

“Sometimes she aims for the acrobats,” a voice said.  “That’ll be the last time I practice while eating an apple.”

“It’s dangerous anyway,” Elizabeta said.  “You can’t eat and summersault at the same time.  You’d choke and then Abel would flip his shit!”

The man she spoke to shrugged.  He looked a lot like Antonio, though restless hair was restrained by a ponytail and a scar slashed down one cheek.  “He’d flip his shit anyway,” he said, glancing at Lovino.  “Francis brought a pool over for a reason,” he said.  “Put him down so I can slap you properly.”

“For—for _what_ —“

“For being an idiot,” the acrobat said.

Antonio sighed through grinding teeth, but stepped into the pool and allowed Francis to unstrap Lovino, who splashed down with an undignified yelp.  He rolled to regain balance and sat up, scowling.  Water dripped down his face.

“Alright, João, have at it, then,” Antonio said, stepping over the side of the pool, arms angled from his sides in a disarming pose, palms forward.

The way João stepped forward, lips pursed and eyes narrowed, Antonio shied back.  He prepared himself for the blow, but instead of a fist hooking his jaw he found arms tight around his back, holding him close as his brother growled into his ear.  “You ever worry me like that again and I’ll punch you for real.”

Blinking, Antonio nodded.  “O-of course—“

“Got your shit together, then?” he asked, releasing him.  His stare was just as fierce as before, but Antonio let himself relax.

He nodded.  “More or less…”

“Keep it that way.”

“Brothers,” someone scoffed, half masked by the cloak falling over his face.  He huddled into it as if taken by a sudden chill, shoulders tensed as he drew his knees up closer.  The log he sat on wobbled a little.

He scowled darkly as Antonio joined him there, scooting away a few inches.

“I don’t know you,” he said quietly.

Antonio nodded.  “You must be new since I left and rejoined,” he said.  “My name is Antonio Carreido and I will be dancing with fire.  What is your name and what is your skill?”

“S’Emil,” the boy said.  “Don’t have a skill.”

“He draws,” Francis explained.  “Very well and very quickly.  He does caricatures during the show.”

Emil nodded but turned his head to one side to stare at Lovino, who now lounged against the side of his pool, tail snaking over.

The Merman himself was now distracted by the fire, watching it surge and recede.  It spewed its life off as smoke, but persisted on.  The combination of heat soaking in his skin and the water seeping into his pores did not mesh, but he felt warm and comfortable enough, content to listen to the conversation around him.  He was one step closer to finding Gilbert and would soon reunite with his brother.  Maybe the odds weren’t turned against him after all.

* * *

 “It’s like he vanished—“ Gilbert said, throwing his hands up as he paced the edge of the lake. 

Ludwig popped up from the murky water and shook his head, then circled back around, diving down to grope along the base of the dam.  Eventually he returned to shore.  “I could not find him and he did not answer.  There is no way he did not hear us.  He must not be here…”

“But the trail leads right _to_ this place, and he sure as hell couldn’t have scaled _that_ thing—“ he gestured wildly to the sheer concrete cliff looming up, curved around the pitiful lake as it bore the reservoir up top on its shoulders.  Water heaved over it in spurts.

“True, we aren’t very adept at climbing,” Ludwig said. 

Gilbert laughed, but it was a dry, bitter thing.  “Unless he has suction cups I don’t know about—“  He turned to the cabin waiting nearby.  There was no groove in the mud indicating that Lovino had dragged himself toward it, but a trail of footprints sank deep, half filled with water. 

Alfred, who had been leaned against the wagon edge whilst chatting with Arthur, jerked his thumb toward the place.  “You try knocking on the door?”

“Not yet…” Gilbert said.  “But maybe whoever lives there saw something…”

“How can you tell someone lives in that dump?” Arthur asked.  He slid from the seat.  Mud squelched as he landed.

“Look,” Gilbert said, approaching it.  His hand ran over where flowering vines had twisted and tangled so violently that wood and brick was no longer visible for convoluted greenery and pops of purple.  Then his fingertips grazed the door and finally curled around the knob.  “The door is completely clear.”  He gave the knob a tug.

To his surprise, the door shuddered open.

“Huh…” Alfred said, pressing closer.  He scratched the top of his head and peered in over Gilbert’s shoulder.  “Looks pretty lived in too…You sure it’s okay to just barge in?  What happened to knocking?”

“Didn’t feel like it,” Gilbert muttered.  “And no one seems to be home…otherwise they would have heard us by now.  We weren’t exactly quiet when it came to shouting for Lovino…”  He stepped inside.

Gilbert only bothered with pacing the place once, then slumped down into a chair to bury his face in his hands a moment.  Breathing deeply, he collected himself, and shifted so that his chin was on top of interlaced fingers as he stared blankly at the trinkets cluttering the table.  “Okay, so those spices up there still look pretty fresh,” he said, more to himself than to Alfred, who was rifling through some of the junk.  “They were here recently.  Don’t know when they’ll return.”

“We gonna wait for them?” Alfred asked.

Gilbert shook his head.  “I don’t know how much of a help they’d be, to be honest.  It’s possible that…maybe Lovino left this place and didn’t leave a trail.”

“Impossible,” Arthur said, stepping inside.  After one cursory glance, he scoffed and shook his head.  “The mud is thick around the entirety of that lake and we saw the trail dumping him in.”

“Could have left by the same trail,” Gilbert mumbled, face shifting back into his hands.  “Backtracked.  Fuck.”

“No,” Alfred said.

Both turned to where he’d retreated toward the window.  He’d been staring out it over the lake, but now he was squatted down.  He stood up with blankets in his hands, still damp and saturated by mud.  “See?”

“Wet blankets?” Arthur asked.

“I mean, we use blankets to keep Ludwig’s tail from drying out,” Alfred said.  “Maybe Lovino was in the cabin with whoever this person was and they left together.”

“I—where do you—where would he have taken him?” Gilbert asked, shoving himself to his feet so violently that the chair scooted backward and nearly tipped.  It teetered, but righted itself with a dull tap.  Gilbert was already to the window.  He tugged one of the blankets from Alfred’s hands and started pulling it through his hands, shaking and spreading it to better examine it.  It was wool and still heavy with water that splattered down onto his feet.  The pattern was completely blotched out by mud.

“No wagon tracks,” Arthur said.  “Just footprints up to the road.  I wouldn’t know which direction they took, or if Lovino even went willingly.”

“He’s pretty trusting,” Gilbert groaned.  “Well, he was of me.  I don’t know if the recent shit knocked sense into him about humans.”  He shook his head.  The blanket pooled around his feet, and he stepped over it toward the door again.  “But that little shit has spines and sharp teeth and a muscular tail.  He could have fucked up that person’s shit if they tried to carry him somewhere he did not want to go.”

Alfred nodded once.  “Okay, but…where now?”

Gilbert shrugged.  “That’s what bugs me.  I don’t know.  I—I would think he’d want to—to go back to the ocean where he’d be a little safer.  I don’t think he’d go inland without me, unless to look for me…but he must know that the first place I’d go is back to that cave, which is what I did.”  He rubbed at his temples and started cutting back and forth across the room.  “I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know where to go.  This island is huge and the ocean is even _bigger_ and I don’t know how this person is that took him and what they had planned and _fuck_.”

He did not respond, even when Alfred squeezed his shoulder.

“Well,” Alfred said.  “We have to figure out a way to comb this island shore to shore for him.”

“That could take _weeks_ ,” Gilbert muttered.  “Especially traveling with another human.  We’re not even limited to streams and lakes and the ocean now.  He could be in any house, soaking in any bathtub, wrapped in blankets—I don’t know—“

“The princess,” Arthur said.

Gilbert’s head jerked up again.  “What?”

“Her coronation is rapidly approaching,” Arthur continued, “She lived under the rule of one who protected the throne until she was of age.  She actually tried to protect the MerPeople, but had no power to do so.  I can get an audience with her.  She might be sympathetic enough to provide men to fuel a search party…”  A few seconds ticked by, and Arthur coughed gently to himself, rapidly retracing his words and stumbling back.  “I—I only because I know people who know her.”

“Look, Arthur,” Gilbert snapped.  “I know about the plague and how you used the scales of a Merman to heal her.  Stop trying to cover your damn tracks and just fucking own up to what happened.”

Arthur swallowed.  “I—I am not responsible for what followed—I never wanted that to happen—“

“Stop trying to separate yourself from it,” Gilbert said.  “It happened.  Only the guilty try to run—and you’re sitting right fucking in front of the Merman whose lover you basically sentenced to death.  Are you that deep in denial?” 

Arthur flinched back.

“Okay, Okay,” Alfred said, waving his hands, sidling up to place himself between Gilbert and Arthur.

He did not fear a fight—Gilbert was not tensed, though his tone was sharp.  In contrast, he was limp in the chair, no energy in a slouching posture and downcast eyes.  Arthur, too, was withdrawn into himself as he retreated toward the door to stare out at the lake where Ludwig still lurked.  Silence pressed down, still but charged like a distant storm.

“Anyway,” Alfred continued, “I think we should go see this princess.  It’s the best idea we have to go with right now…”

Gilbert’s sigh was long and tired.  “Fine.  Where does she live?”

“Big castle on the North end of the island.  Can’t miss it, really.”

“How long will it take us to get there?” Gilbert asked.

Arthur’s voice was sullen as he answered, “If we ride hard and fast, maybe a day’s journey.”

“Then let’s go.”

It was dawn of the next morning by the time that the wagon wheels groaned still and the cloud of dust settled around the horse’s feet.  It had taken Alfred and Arthur trading off driving in shifts, and one period of significant rest for the horse with a few stops between for water, but they rode through the night.

Alfred stifled a yawn and jostled Arthur’s shoulder to wake him.

Gilbert, jarred by the sudden stillness of a once pitching wagon and the absence of ringing hooves, sat up, tousled and bleary eyed.  “Wha’ time…?” 

The sun was a bleak thing shrouded in a mist-soaked horizon riding out a choppy sea.  Birds wheeled overhead, their raucous calls echoing off the cliffs swelling up the shore.  More impressive than these was the castle carved from sandstone, etched along the cliff-face as if part of the land itself, a series of towers rising even beyond it. 

“Holy shit…” Gilbert muttered, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  He kicked absently at Ludwig’s shoulder.

With a grunt, Ludwig stirred and pushed himself up by his knuckles.  He was just as tousled as his brother, but instantly twice as alert.  He gathered still-damp blankets around his tail without tearing his eyes from the impressive structure.  One hand reached up to brush his hair back.  “I am glad to see we arrived in such good time,” he said

“Hm,” Alfred agreed, drawing the wagon up closer to the gate.  Iron bars twisted spirals across the mouth of a tunnel retreating into the keep.  “So, babe, how do we communicate with them?  They need to open up…”

“There should be someone guarding it,” Arthur said, yawning. 

“Wait, yeah, I see someone coming,” Alfred said, squinting into the darkness.

“I wonder if it is prudent that I am so easily identified,” Ludwig murmured.  He sidled back down and took extra care to cover his tail.  He would never admit it, but he was grateful for the cool of the cloth on his cheek and the quiet of closed eyes as the wagon lulled him back to sleep.

Gilbert scoffed, but fondly ran his fingers through Ludwig’s hair, easing it back into disarray.

Two men emerged into the light.

Alfred pulled the horses into a stop and waved toward the pair.  “We request an audience with the Princess,” he said. 

One of the men was obviously a royal guard in the way that he held himself, chestplate gleaming with each stride.  A spear hung from one hand, the other on the other man’s shoulder—steering not comforting.  He lifted his head at Alfred’s voice and surveyed him with a cool stare.  “What business do you have?”

The second man was the same height as the first, but he tugged his cloak tighter around himself.  Where green eyes appraised, his amber ones flashed.  Then, all at once, his gaze fell to the dirt, where he watched his bare toes curl inward and out again.  They were dirty, bruised.  Several places the heel was cracked and poorly wound bandages frayed and bloodstained.

Alfred paid him no mind.  Instead, he looked back where Arthur rummaged through his sack, procuring a folded set of papers and handing it over.  Alfred passed it along, leaning forward to prod it through the iron gates.

The guard accepted them.  He had to pick apart a twine knot to unfold them, which he held in one hand as he scanned the writing there.  He nodded slowly.  “Yes, I see.”  Then, carefully, he refolded the papers and handed them back, the twine a tangle on top.  “I suppose I have no choice but to grant you an audience then.  Circle your wagon backward.”

Alfred did so, and the guard heaved at a crank to one side, which turned a cascade of gears that ground open the gates with a low grumble.  They swung outward along a groove swooping out into the path, then rattled to a stop on either side.

“Off with you,” The guard said to the other man, giving him a light push.

The man stumbled a little but turned to give the guard a tiny smile and a nod, then drove himself into a steady jog down the road, as if the rocks and grit did not cut into already damaged feet.

 


	13. Very Human Legs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School got crazy for a bit back there, but I did write the 50K words of this story during April. I just have a looooot of editing to do for bits of it, so I've been procrastinating a little til the semester ended. Yep.
> 
> Psssssst, check out what tumblr user fujoshi-channohoneydays drew for the story! [Right here!](http://fujoshi-channohoneydays.tumblr.com/post/116944558694/prumano-from-potatobastard-s-fanfiction-the-man)

Alfred paid this dirty traveler no mind.  Instead, he looked back where Arthur rummaged through his sack, procuring a folded set of papers and handing it over.  Alfred passed it along, leaning forward to prod it through the iron gates.

The guard accepted them.  He had to pick apart a twine knot to unfold them, which he held in one hand as he scanned the writing there.  He nodded slowly.  “Yes, I see.”  Then, carefully, he refolded the papers and handed them back, the twine a tangle on top.  “I suppose I have no choice but to grant you an audience then.  Circle your wagon backward.”

Alfred did so, and the guard heaved at a crank to one side, which turned a cascade of gears that ground open the gates with a low rumble.  They swung outward along a groove swooping out into the path, then rattled to a stop on either side.

“Off with you,” The guard said to the other man, giving him a light push.

The man stumbled a little but turned to give the guard a tiny smile and a nod, then drove himself into a steady jog down the road, as if the rocks and grit did not cut into already damaged feet.

“Who was he…” Alfred wondered.  He followed the guard’s instructions and eased the horse forward just enough that he could wind the gates shut again. 

“A mercenary,” The guard said, with obvious disdain, as his lips pressed into a line and his grip tightened on the spear.  “The princess relies on him for information, despite my warnings.”

“Unsavory,” Arthur agreed.

“I’m sure he’s a nice guy,” Alfred said with a shrug.  “I mean outside the trade.”

This earned him a scoff from both the guard and Arthur and an eyeroll from Gilbert.

“What’s worse, she has pirates in her employment as well,” the guard mumbled, more to himself than to them.  He started forward.

Alfred blinked, swinging down to lead the horse by the reigns, just a pace behind the guard. 

“Vash!”  Princess Lili stood outside the doors into the great hall, which retreated deep into the cliff so that the only light came from a series of sconces glancing shadows across cold stone floors.  Still, the young woman lit up the hall as if it was swathed in sun, her smile warm and her eyes soft.  Her hair, though hacked short as if by dagger, curled with easy grace beside her ears and framed a youthful face.

Alfred looked from one to the next, noticing similarity in bone structure and even haircut.  He blinked.

Vash grumbled something but greeted her in kind, nodding toward the guests.  “You have in your presence Arthur Kirkland and his company.”

Gilbert covered a derisive snort with one hand.

“I trust it is something important.”

Lili watched them, blinking at the horse stamping its feet in her hall.  “First things first, let’s get the horse to the stables.  It’s probably tired from a long journey.”  She rubbed the creature’s muzzle with gentle hands, though she barely stood at level with its shoulder. 

“I’ll do so,” Vash said.

“Oh uh, okay, this is awkward then,” Gilbert said, kicking at Ludwig’s shoulder before scrambling to his feet and throwing himself over the side.

“What’s awkward?” Vash’s eyes narrowed into slits.

 Ludwig sat up, disoriented, blinking slowly. 

“Ludwig is slightly impaired in the walking department,” Gilbert said slowly.

“Oh ho ho, is he _ever_ —“ Came a booming voice from across the hall.  It swelled and echoed in the large chamber, followed by the hollow tap of an axe pole on the ground in counterpoint with footsteps.  A man in a long, black pirate’s coat came striding in with eyes just as wild as hair that swooped upward and it all directions, rebelling against a tiny black hat perched at a jaunty angle to one side.  He grinned broadly at the group.

“Great,” Vash muttered, looking to Lili.  “You can’t keep inviting people like him into your castle.  It simply isn’t safe--”

“He means no harm,” Lili said simply.  “Don’t worry too much about it, brother.  I value and trust your advice, but this man has proven himself to me.”  She patted his shoulder a little. 

Vash watched the man approach.  He stood stock still, muscles tense, rigid in contrast to Lili’s quiet, easy-going demeanor.

“Where the hell did ya dig up a Merman in these parts?” the pirate asked.  When he reached them he leaned one arm against the side of the wagon.  “Judging by the tail, you’re from the tropics originally.  A bit up North, aren’t ye.”

“W-what?”  Ludwig shifted back a little.

The pirate’s brow furrowed—but in a flash he was back to grinning, though his head tilted to the side.  “Interesting,” he said with a shrug, but he jutted a hand out.  “The name is Mathias Kohler.  Pirate by trade, scoundrel by living if you ask Lukas.”

Ludwig hesitated but took it, squeezing back just as firmly as Mathias as they shook.  He withdrew with a pensive stare.

“You’ve got human customs down,” Mathias said simply, turning away before Ludwig could respond.  “Anyway—“  He swooped toward Lili, rubbing at the back of his neck with a raucous laugh that belied his false modesty.  “Forgive me for the time it took me to return.  Lukas was throwing a fit about stocking up the ship.  He gets finicky if everything isn’t in place.”

“I do not,” an even voice said.  A shorter man joined Mathias, who was every bit as cold as Mathias was fiery, eyes deep and quiet and midnight blue overcoat perfectly pressed.  He kept his hands in his pockets, but stood close to Mathias, as if drawing warmth or energy from him.  Though he spoke softly, he spoke with authority with his head held high.  His gaze took in everything with one sweep, resting last on Ludwig.  “You’re just a slob.”

Mathias leaned against Lukas, who staggered a little under his weight.  “Anyway, just wanted our lil princess to know our status.”  He grinned with a mock bow and tugged Lukas toward the door again, raising one hand without looking back.  “We’ll talk later about specifics, ye?”

“Of course,” Lili said.  “And you aren’t to speak of the Merman you saw here today.”

“Wouldn’t dream of offending the lady who pays us,” Mathias called back.  The door swung shut behind them.

“I don’t like them hanging about,” Vash repeated.  “You know that our Uncle is still in power.  If he knew—“

“I know what I’m doing,” Lili said. “And these men are easily two times more honorable than he is.”  She teased her fingers through her hair a moment then turned back to Arthur.  “Just what is it that you want?  I will do my best, although I am not queen and will not have my full powers until three month’s time.”

“Right,” Arthur said, waving his hand.  “And I know better than to let any of this slip in his direction.  I know the sort of man he is.”  He grimaced.

Alfred, too, winced.

“Carry on,” Lili said.  “With the topic at hand.”

Arthur gestured to Gilbert.  “I wouldn’t normally, erm, ask return for a favor on behalf of someone else, but in the line of wrong and rightdoings, I know I have a price to pay.”  He swallowed once.  “Gilbert is the one who will need your aid.”

Lili cocked her head in his direction.

Clearing his throat, Gilbert tugged at his shirt collar, mumbling through a few words  then licking his lips.  He looked to Ludwig, who nodded, then spoke.  “I just need manpower.  I need help looking for a Merman who could be anywhere inland or perhaps even the ocean by now.”

Lili blinked.  “I _thought_ I heard a rumor about a Merman at the marketplace.  I thought perhaps the island was going insane.”

“Yeah, well, he’s my friend,” Gilbert said, “And shit went down and we got separated and I need to find him before someone unsavory does.  I just—I need people—people who are more than just the four of us to search every nook and cranny.  You have guards—and they can reach more towns than we can.  Just any hint of where he might be—anything we can work off of—“

Lili held up a hand.

Gilbert realized he’d been rambling in a frenzy and cut himself off with a bitter little laugh.

Lili waited as he schooled his face into something serious.

“I don’t have an overabundance of guards,” she said, “And my Uncle will surely notice if a number of them are missing.  It is risky for me to send anyone out, especially so close to my coronation.  I don’t—I don’t trust my uncle, especially where Merfolk are concerned.  The best I can grant you until I am coroneted is two.”  She bit thoughtfully at her bottom lip.  “I do…I do have Mathias and Lukas working for me presently on a separate mission.  I can also offer them extra to look on the side.  Will that suffice for the present?”

Gilbert’s chest emptied with a long sigh, and he sagged like a deflated doll.  He nodded slowly.  “I understand your predicament is complicated.  Thanks even for this much help.”

“Please, if you should find him, return here and let me know,” Lili said softly, tugged at the sleeve of her dress.  She dressed in a blue that rivaled the ocean, though she was locked away in rock and walls far from it.  “I want to know if he is safe.  Once I am rid of my uncle, I can even offer further assistance, be it that you want to leave this island with him or find a comfortable place to live.  I am happy to help the MerPeople.”

“Rid of her uncle?  Sounds a little grim,” Arthur muttered to Alfred from behind his hand.

* * *

 

Abel wasted no time in the affairs of his circus.  He’d instructed a few men to unpack the equipment, deciding on last moment’s notice that they were to practice a few days to work out an act for Lovino before heading out to the next town.  They were scheduled to perform in a little less than a week.

They’d moved the wagon with the tank into the clearing where men were already driving stakes into the ground for a massive safety net.  Two worked to erect twin ladders, joined at the tops but a thick wire which drooped down.  As they moved further away, it pulled taut.  Here, they drove the ladders deep into the ground and tugged and shoved either direction to confirm they were stable.

Francis was already up and teetering back and forth the tightrope by the time Abel approached.  He stood near the tank, watching him a moment.  Francis wobbled, arms out, cautiously prodding the line with a slippered toe as if testing water.  One foot slipped, and the rope vibrated with a low hum--but then, as if tiptoeing across water, he threw himself up and twisted into a pirouette, landing gracefully on one foot.  Then he strolled with easy grace.

“You’re too dramatic!” Antonio called up from cupped hands.

Francis responded with a little bow and flourish, then walked backwards a few strides.

“Hmph,” Abel scoffed.  He knocked on the side of Lovino’s tank.

Lovino popped up from the water and peered down at him.  One arm swiped across his eyes.

“What kind of skill set are we working with, here?” Abel asked.

Lovino opened his mouth but shrugged.  “I don’t know how to do anything like that—“  He gestured vaguely toward Francis and the two men who were juggling fruit. 

“There is always something,” Abel said.  He studied Lovino quietly.  “Feliciano and you will be working together, considering the nature of your act.  Until he returns, I wanted to brainstorm.”  He flopped open a pad of paper and tapped idly against it with his pen as he continued to watch his men.  He scrawled notes as he spoke.  “You won’t have much room to do anything in that tank alone.  There is the usual jumping from tank to tank with flips and flaming hoops…”

Lovino winced.

“But it all seems pretty generic.”

“You mean other circuses have merfolk…?  Aren’t they…aren’t they all gone?”  Lovino wrapped his arms around his elbows and sank til just his head was barely above the water. 

“No idea,” Abel said, now tapping the pen against his chin.  “Scales are iridescent.  They reflect light.”

“I—I guess so?”

“I like the idea of playing with mirrors to direct light,” Abel said simply.  “Adds mystery.  Need a huge glass tank, though.  Don’t know how much that would cost.”  He winced at the mental calculations.  “Unless I can get one of my men to build something for me.  Ivan maybe.  Tunnels, even, that people can walk under.”  He scoffed again.  “Too much money, probably.  Would have to attract enough people to pay for itself.”

Lovino sank further, til it was just his eyes above the surface. When he realized Abel was mostly musing to himself, he allowed himself to collect on the bottom of the tank and lay there watching the clouds through the distortion of water, even as still as it was.  Eventually he closed his eyes.

For a few moments, the echoed boom of vibrations was gone—no murmur and activity shook his tank—and the stagnant water was thick with salt and choppy waves.  The cold of the arctic was nothing to thick skin and a powerful tail.  He and Feliciano darted up and around the chunks of ice scattered about the edge of the island.  They’d challenge each other to races through the maze of obstacles, tails clipping the ice as they launched themselves up onto the fragments and skidded across to plop into the ocean on the other side—

Jolted from his reverie by a booming thud, Lovino shot to the surface.  “What the hell—“

“S’Feliciano,” Abel said.  He’d filled his paper with notes and little diagrams.  He flipped it shut in the same movement that he tucked it into his pocket;  his other hand perched the pen behind his ear.

“Feliciano—“  Lovino hung from the edge of the tank, glancing back and forth, straining his ears for the creak of a wagon.

One slowly pulled up, a second tank crowded with four or five dolphins, most of which circled aimlessly in the tiny space.  Lovino squinted into the mass of fins and tails for a familiar face—any face other than long noses and slick heads.

Then he saw him.

Feliciano was bobbing at the surface, shrouded by dolphins, his arms outstretched as he laughed and chided them.

“F—feliciano…” Lovino choked.  When his brother did not look up, he yelled louder.  “FELICIANO.”  Like a coiled spring, he pushed himself further out the water, relying on his arms to hold him up from the tank edge.  He felt hot and cold all at once.  Goosebumps prickled his flesh in a way that the wind could not.  His heart pounded up into his throat and threatened to soar away.

Finally, Feliciano glanced up.  Eyes tight with laughter slowly narrowed then widened.  He stared, mouth open, til water sloshed up and slapped him in the face.  Coughing violently, he pushed through the churning mass of dolphins.  “L-Lovino?”

Francis, who’d dropped down thirty feet into the safety net, rolled toward the edge and tipped over the side.  It quivered, but he was long gone, toward Antonio in the center of the camp.  “They are reunited,” he whispered.  “It’s beautiful…”

Antonio’s smile lit his eyes, but fell all too quickly, his hand finding Francis’s and squeezing.  “I realized I should have warned Lovino…”

The driver rounded the wagon out to pull up alongside the main train, but Feliciano was already swinging himself over the side before it drew to a stop.  He dropped into the sand beside the wheels, knees bending to take the sudden jolt.  He popped back up into a run toward the tank that held his brother.

“F-felic—“

Lovino stared in something akin to horror as Feliciano scaled the ladder to the top, where he waved his arms in an attempt to communicate the jumbled mix of exclamation and confusion spilling from his lips.

But Lovino’s eyes were fixed on his brother’s very human legs, toes still hooked around the rungs of the ladder.  Cuts and bruises laced calloused pads, some deep and oozing.

“I can’t believe you’re _here—_ you’re _here—_ how are you here?” Feliciano finally managed.  He cupped his brother’s face in his hands, shaking his head.  “How did you find me—I wasn’t sure if anyone was _alive_ —I was convinced…I was convinced that—“  He swallowed heavily and shook his head more vigorously than before.  “No, that’s not important.  What’s important is that my brother is alive and he’s here and—oh man, you shouldn’t be this far inland.  You need to get into the ocean and away from this place I mean it’s not _safe_ surely you know about—“

The words died on his lips when Lovino’s shock did not die away.  The open mouth and horrified furrow of his brow seemed plastered on his face.

“Are you—are you okay…You look like you see a ghost—“

Finally a hoarse whisper wrenched from his throat.  “Your…your tail…”

Finally, Feliciano followed his eyes to his legs.  He answered with a nervous little chuckle, toes curling further.  “Oh…um…yeah, I forgot…um…”

 


	14. Still an Asshole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picked random phrases from the chapter for the titles, have you noticed?
> 
> there really is no consistency to this update schedule. i gotta do a complete overhaul to the next chapter before I post, so it'll prooooobably take a while (queen of procrastination?)
> 
> it is 9:45pm and I want to run to hyvee for popcorn kernels. irrelevant information. help. ;;;

“Where the fuck is your tail?!” Lovino repeated.  He blinked wildly as his chest shattered through the ice paralyzing his lungs.  To catch his breath properly, he sank down and inhaled through his nose.  His knuckles turned white as he gripped the tank edge harder.

Feliciano waited until he emerged.  He was calmer, but his chest still heaved.  “I…I made a deal with a witch doctor,” he said quietly.  “It’s a long story.  I…I can tell you later, just…”

He glanced around, aware of the eyes fixed on them.  With a sheepish chuckle, he turned back to Lovino and leaned in closer, voice growing quiet and solemn.  “Please, Lovino…please don’t—please don’t look at me like that.  I had to do what I could to survive.”

“You’re not—you’re human…” Lovino repeated.  “How are you human…why aren’t you…why aren’t you you…”

“I’m still Feliciano,” he said gently.

Then, something cold washed over him. “After all they did to us you become one?”

Feliciano’s voice died on his lips.

“How could you…how could you…change like that…”

A heavy silence choked the warmth out of the sun.  It muted even the stamp of horses’s hooves and the shift of equipment.  Somewhere in the distance, men hefted up dolphins.  They splashed into their respective tanks.

But there was only the ringing in Lovino’s ears and the haze that swathed his mind.  His eyes burned.  Numbness leeched through him.

“I,” Feliciano said, picking his words carefully, “wanted to stay as myself.  I was afraid of returning to an empty ocean,” he said.  “There was no hope for me there.”

“I was there,” Lovino choked.

“And now you’re here…” Feliciano said.  His shoulders shook, and he stabilized himself against the edge of the tank with a little whine.  “If I had known—if I had known you were alone there—waiting for me…I would have…I would have searched for you.  I thought you were dead and I thought my lover was gone.  I had no choice…I had no choice.”

Lovino’s struggled against a sadness that welled up in him, sighing long and hard.  It rattled through him.  But then, slowly, he reached across.  His fingertips barely grazed Feliciano’s cheek, lingered, then moved up to his hair.  It hung in strings around his ears, impossibly curly even plastered down. 

Feliciano did not dare move.  He watched his brother carefully.

The silence that had been so oppressive quieted into something bittersweet.  Lovino swallowed.  “Still Feliciano,” he said.  “Still a fucking asshole.”

There was no bite to his words, and they seemed sweeter than any term of endearment or any ‘I missed you’. 

“I missed you too,” Feliciano said.  A single tear raced down his cheek.

Lovino shook his head.  “MerFolk don’t _cry_.”  A sob bit at his words.

“Humans do,” Feliciano said breathlessly, “That I found out the hard way.”

Finally, as if leaping across the chasm, Feliciano pushed himself past the edge of the tank, latching onto his brother and holding him tight to his chest.  He felt him bury his nose there and shake with sobs, which he bit back with grit teeth.  Lovino gripped at his shoulders so tight he left marks there.

“Fuck you…” Lovino managed.  “Just fuck you…”

Feliciano’s chest shook with laughter this time: a gentle chiding thing that overwhelmed him and brought tears to his eyes for a different reason.  He pulled Lovino closer, shaking his head, his chin on his shoulder.  “Behave yourself, brother,” he said quietly.  He released him, breathless, but a grin plastering his face.  “I am so glad you’re alive—I don’t even have words—“

“Maybe you’ll shut up for once,” Lovino managed, wiping at his nose with his arm.  A shy smile touched his lips, and he looked away before Feliciano’s became too infection.  “Just don’t you fucking disappear again.”

“Of course not—“  He kissed either of Lovino’s cheeks.

The silence had completely lifted, but the camp was entranced, all eyes on them.  Abel coughed a little.  “I’m not paying you all to sit idle.”

They dispelled.  A dull clatter of practice sparring and the twang of the safety net finally eased into the clearing.

Lovino glanced past Feliciano, at the flurry of activity around them.  “I really don’t have a fucking clue what I got myself into.  Antonio over there mentioned your name and I had to check it out…”

Feliciano cocked his head.  “What were you doing on land in the first place?”

“Followed a human,” Lovino muttered.  His cheeks burned.  His eyes bored into the floor of the tank.  “I didn’t want to be in the ocean alone anymore.  S’like you—so don’t you fucking judge.  But then I got separated from him and assholes tried to kidnap me.  Why the hell are humans so—why did they—“

Feliciano shrugged.  He absently ran his fingers through Lovino’s hair, hoping to calm him.  “Greed,” he said.  “And a disregard for life.  There were enough people like that to wipe out the majority of the Merfolk around here.  The Hunters, or whatever.  It was only crews worth, too, that’s the worst part.  I hate them for what they did…and yet I can’t stop loving the few who are innocent.  It’s really messed up, isn’t it?  I mean, I became one of the creatures that took everything from me.

“I mean, they were fighting a plague,” Feliciano continued, “One that took so many of their lives.  It was an easy choice for them to make—our lives for theirs.  I don’t know if we would have chosen differently—if the roles were reversed.”

“There’s no fucking time for justification and hypotheticals,” Lovino snapped, pulling away just enough that Feliciano’s hand reached out for nothing.  “Because it didn’t happen any other way than how it _happened_ and nothing fucking excuses it and nothing will ever fucking bring back our parents or our grandfather or our _friends._ ”  His words were as sharp as his teeth, which he ground together as his tail swished and agitated the water.  It sloshed over the tank wall.  Then, a sigh emptied him and the tension drained from him.  When he collected himself, all the fight was gone.  “I just want to find Gilbert.  I can trust him.  He and I can forget about this whole clusterfuck somewhere warm and safe.”

“I hope you can,” Feliciano said, withdrawing his hand finally.  “I hope things turn out better for you than they ever did for me.  I’m the one who feels responsible for all this…and I have kind of accepted that.”  The tremor in his voice said anything but, though he was remarkably still.  Too still.  His eyes glazed into something dull.  “Anyway, to be here…you have to earn your keep.  I can help you train, if you can stand being a source of idle entertainment for the humans.”  Quietly, he slid down the ladder and retreated into a tent near the edge of the camp.

“S’not like I have a choice,” Lovino muttered, dropping to the floor of the tank.  There he sat, curled into a ball, a few bubbles rising and popping at the surface every few minutes at the rapid flapping of his gills.  He screwed his eyes shut and willed himself not to feel. 

“Harsh,” Emil said.  He’d been sitting at one of the tin bathtubs, helping to scrub down the dolphins.  It chattered and nuzzled against his hands, rolling over and over in his arms as he tried to hold it still long enough to scrape away some of the grime.  An odd twist of envy slithered through him, and he looked off toward the road.  He half expected to hear the booming of voices or the thunder of hooves.

None came.

“Wonder if they’re even looking.”  He scoffed.  “They better not be.”

He flinched away as the dolphin squirmed free and slapped a wall of water at his face—tearing himself away from where the water splashed into the thirsty dirt.  His shoulder slammed into the ground.  He clawed himself up and scooted away, breathing heavily.

From where he’d been scrawling more notes, Abel glanced over.  “Water won’t hurt you.”  He made his way to Ivan.

Ivan was by no means dainty and he towered over even Abel.  He stood near the nets, studying the knots that clung to the stakes driven deep into the ground.  He prodded one.  It sent vibrations down the web with a low thrum.  He nodded, satisfied.

“Ivan,” Abel said.

Ivan turned.  Though it was warm, he wore a long, white coat and boots.  His scarf, at least, was balled up into his pocket, one end hanging down as far as his waist. Absently, a hand reached up to scratch a large nose, then brushed blond bangs from his eyes. “What is it that you are wanting?”  He met Abel’s cold demeanor with one just as icy.

“I have plans for a show involving the Merman,” Abel said.  He pushed the notepad into Ivan’s giant hand, with no regard for manners. 

Ivan’s gaze barely scathed over it.  “A new challenge for me?”  He flipped the book closed and dropped it into one of his coat pockets.  “I can do that easily.  Get me the materials.”

“And those are?”

“Sand,” Ivan said.  “And an alchemist.  Do you think I am magic?  Foolish man.”  His chuckle was deceptively friendly.  “Or a means to make fire hot.  I don’t care which, as long as coin makes it into my pocket.”

“The same way that meals make it into your belly?” Abel grumbled.  “I pay you the same as all my performers, and that’s in room and board and a little extra.  Don’t get cocky.  You want that extra?  You help make my show famous.”

Ivan’s sigh puffed upwards and lifted the bangs up off his forehead.  They fluttered down.  “I will be getting 30% from all of Merboy’s shows,” he said.  “After all, I can find good work anywhere.”  He lumbered off.

Abel raised a brow then, mouth twitching, leaned over to spit into the dirt.  “He’s too cocky,” he muttered.

“You would have done the same,” Antonio said.  He dodged as Abel tried to cuff him, then danced out of reach. 

“Don’t be insolent,” Abel said.  “I need you to find me an alchemist.  Sand is free on the beach, at least.”

Antonio reached back to rub at the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle.  “I’m not sure where I would even find someone like that.”

He grunted as João came from behind and hooked his neck with his elbow, yanking him down to ruffle his hair.  Disheveled, he wrested free, and stumbled away.

“H-hey—“

João smirked.  “It’s not like you to complain about a task,” he said.

Abel scoffed.  He and João had been instant friends from the day they met.  They showed it by smirking quietly at one another and muttering insults as they walked by.  Often, Antonio was a shared target.  “Are we thinking about the same Antonio?”  He brushed past the pair.  “Go into town and look.  You probably made plenty of friends around here when you deserted us.”

“Wow, kinda harsh,” João admitted.  “But come on, I’ll help you out.  I’ve been meaning to go into town anyway.  I’m so painfully sober these days…”

* * *

Gilbert had been impatient to get back onto the road, but he could not deny the fatigue that weighed his limbs and made his feet drag—any more than he could deny the snarl of hunger in his stomach and the burn of thirst at the back of his throat.  Reluctantly, he gave in to Ludwig’s insistence.

Dinnertime found him hunched over a stone table, ass asleep on a too hard chair, elbows on either side of an empty plate and fingers digging into his scalp.  Arthur and Alfred sat across from him, neither speaking, though Alfred absently traced the handle of his fork around the rim of his plate and nudged his napkin around as it to straighten it.  He whistled as if he weren’t aware he was doing so.  Finally, Arthur stayed his hand, his own wrapping around Alfred’s wrist.  The whine of metal against porcelain stopped.  The fork clattered back onto the table.

“Tell them to hurry with the food,” Alfred muttered.

They had not been afforded a space in the great dining hall, where Lili had disappeared with Vash to.  Instead, they were locked away in a side chamber, enclosed on either side by an iron fortified wooden gate.  It was cool here, as if they were buried deep within the cliff.  Darkness clung even to the pronged candlesticks huddled in the center of the table.  This part of the castle moaned past a distant churning of water.

“Looks more like a dungeon,” Gilbert finally said.  “How can I be sure you didn’t get us into some kind of mess?”  He shot Arthur a scathing look.

“Because the princess owes Feliciano her life,” Arthur said.  “Most the humans on this island do—but she is the only one who acknowledges it.  She is a good person.  She will do anything to pay for the sins of her kingdom.”

“She wasn’t even old enough to have committed them,” Ludwig murmured.  “She was a child when it all spiraled out of control.”  He’d been laying comfortably near the back wall.  Lili had seen to it that a hollow in the floor was filled with water from a pipeline snaking through tunnels beneath the shore.  It had taken a twist of a crank to let lose a stream of water that lapped up the slanted borders.

Gilbert jumped a little bit. His eyes had been closed for almost five minutes.  He’d forgotten that Ludwig was even there.  Finally, shifting slowly like one exiting a dream, he sat up.  “Almost like this room was designed to accommodate a Merman,” he mused, eager to change the subject.

Ludwig scooted himself up a little along the floor, so that only his tail was submerged.  He rested his elbows on the floor and his chin on his hands.  “It seems so,” he admitted.  Puzzled, he twisted around to investigate.

More suspicious were the grooves hollowed out into the floor near his little basin.  A little more water and they’d fill into a rounded tunnel that snaked off toward either gate.  Squinting into the darkness, Ludwig realized that the gates had a small door that blocked off these tunnels.  Who knew how far this stone-carved river meandered through the castle.  “Odd…”

Gilbert had been studying them as well.  His brow furrowed.  He traced the rim of his plate with one finger.  “I want to build a place like this for me and Lovino,” he finally said.  “Make it somewhere completely isolated…away from anyone who could hurt us or bother us.  Make it comfortable for the two of us…near a river…somewhere nice.  Plant a grove of fruit trees.”

The way his eyes shone but his knuckles turned white where he gripped the edge of his seat, Ludwig realized that Gilbert was grappling for any bit of hope he could latch on to.  He knew that feeling.

The gate they’d gone through initially shuddered.  A lock clicked and something clunked.  It wheezed open.

The voice that echoed through the hall was loud.  Boisterous.  “I suppose we can’t let ‘em starve.  Would be rude!”  Mathias strode through with a basket hooked on either elbow.

Lukas followed with bread piled in his arms.  “Depends on how you look at it.”  He let the bread tumble onto the bare table and quietly took a seat at least three spaces away from Gilbert.

Mathias, on the other hand, chuckled loudly and plopped down right between Lukas and Gilbert, throwing his arms around both their shoulders.  “We wouldn’t dream of hogging all this food to ourselves—now when the princess was so kind to have it sent for the lot of us!”

Lukas reached over and flicked Mathias square in the eyes.

Offended, Mathias pretended to nurse the tender spot, curling in on himself as he released the pair. “Now that was uncalled for.”

Lukas scoffed.

Gilbert only sighed.  “Just why does she have us locked away back here anyway?”  His eyes were fixed on the curl of steam wafting past the tangle of cloth over top of one of the two baskets Mathias had plunked down earlier.

Slowly, Ludwig slithered over, leaving a trail of water that seeped into the puddle dripping from his tail as he settled himself in one of the chairs.  He felt ungainly, like a man crossing his legs at his ankles and trying to adjust himself at the same time.  Finally, he settled with gripping at the edge of the table, a small frown on his face.

“If her uncle knew about you, then you’d have a hard time leaving,” Mathias said simply.  His grin tugged into something grim.  “He’s an asshole of a man.  Lili is brave for trying to operate under his nose.  Luckily it’s only a matter of time before her power is rightfully hers.  Three months, was it, Lukas?  Til the coronation?”

Lukas nodded, reaching for a loaf of bread.  He bit deep and chewed.  And swallowed.  “If you think he’ll just let the power shift easily, you’re delusional.”  He bit again.  Deeper.

“Well he kinda has to…” Alfred said, tugging away at the cloth on one of the blankets.  “It’s the law…and all the eyes of the kingdom are on them.  He can’t get away with anything…” The steam puffed up in full force.  Alfred’s mouth watered at the hunk of roast beef nestled in a bed of potatoes, peppers, onions, and carrots.  “Oh man…I just died and went to heaven.”

“Dead people don’t talk, I’m afraid.  Or eat,” Arthur said.

Alfred pouted, but he was already loading up his plate. The second basket cloth was whisked away to reveal a pile of apples, oranges, peaches, and plums.

A bit of the dullness on Ludwig’s face receded.  Quietly, he reached and plucked up one of the oranges.  Picking at the peel was distraction enough—and a good excuse not to engage in the conversation but listen intently all the same.

“You have too much faith in humanity, anyway,” Arthur said.  “I wouldn’t put it past a figure such as him to try something funny.”

“Agreed,” Lukas said.  He shot a scathing look to Mathias, who was stuffing a huge chunk of potato in his mouth. 

He sputtered, pounding against his chest as it burned the inside of his cheeks.  Flinching, he awkwardly gnashed his teeth around it then, managing to break it apart, swallowed.  It scalded all the way down.  He chased it with a glass of water. 

“Anyway,” Lukas muttered, turning his face to one said.  “Doesn’t concern us.  We have more pressing matters.”

 “Like what?” Arthur asked.

“None of your business,” Lukas grumbled.

“Official future-queen business?” Alfred said from beyond a bite of meat.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Arthur hissed, jabbing at him under the table.

Alfred shrugged and swallowed.  He repeated his question, but this time with one pinky raised. This earned him another jab.

“My own business,” Lukas repeated.

“Just what _is_ your queen business anyway?” Alfred asked.  “Just out of curiousity.”

Lukas sighed.  His look was so rife with _doneness_ that Mathias hurried to pipe in before the familiar glower settled in.

“Mostly we just watch the seas,” Mathias said.  “Scout the perimeter of the island. We want to make sure that if there are any merfolk left, we find them first before they can wander into this godforsaken island.”

“Oh,” Alfred said quietly. 

“Have you—have you found any?” Gilbert asked.

Mathias nodded.  “A few,” he said.  “Not counting your Shark friend over there and the boy you’re supposedly looking for.”

“Wait, really?”

Mathias nodded.  “They looked like they were from the eastern seas.  You know, colourful tails and sharp spines with those spotted fins.  Really cool looking, to be honest.  Long way they traveled.  I expect there are plenty of Merpeople out in that part of the world still.  I sent them back with a warning to avoid this country and those surrounding it.  Other than that? Nothing much.  Even up North and to the West.  The Hunters really did a number on the populations.  There weren’t—I don’t expect there were huge populations to begin with, and with a whole nation in the hunt, well you can imagine…”

“Lovino will be so happy to hear that there are others like him,” Gilbert said.  “Maybe that can convince him to return to sea...”

“I thought you wanted to build yourselves a nice little house on a mountain somewhere?” Arthur asked.  The sharpness of bright eyes and the usual frown softened.

Gilbert shrugged and stared at his plate.  He’d loaded it up, but now his fork lay forgotten and the food looked unappealing.  “I’d rather him be safe…”

“Just go to the East, then,” Alfred said.  “If the Merfolk are thriving _there_ then it means that he can be a part of your life and stay in the ocean without worrying about safety in either place!”

Lukas smooshed his face onto one fist, as if to shield a wry little smile.  “Depends on if his specific clan of Merfolk gets along with those up in those parts.”

When prompted with questioning stares, Mathias jumped into the conversation.  “We’ve seen Merfolk of different schools fight over territory.  There are some that haven’t gotten along in centuries apparently.”

“Experts are you?” Arthur asked.

“We’re sailors,” Mathias said.  “We’ve been back and forth the seas more than we want to count.  We’ve met a lot of Merpeople in our journey, back when the ocean was full of them.”  He sighed long and hard.  “Miss that life. Miss when we could stretch the legs, so to speak, and put some ocean between us and the land.  Nowadays it’s always hug the shore…”

Lukas placed his roll down, mostly eaten, and stared down at his plate. “I don’t like this either,” he said quietly.  “But it is necessary.  Do not act like it is merely an inconvenience.”  Without excusing himself, he pushed his plate aside, rose, and padded off.  The door groaned behind him.

Mathias winced and deflated a little bit, though he hid his frown by swigging deep into his goblet of water.

“What was that all about?” Alfred asked.  “Chained by the future queen’s orders?”

A booming laugh shook Mathias.  Forced.  He shook his head.  “We play mercenary for her and the tasks she needs completed.  We have absolute freedom to say yes or no.  Our business is on land right now, though we don’t prefer it.  This is how we pad our wallets a little in the meantime.”  His fingers eased through his hair as his face fell into his hands.  He rubbed at his cheeks and then his eyes, tilting his head back but then letting it fall forward again.

Ludwig set the pit of the plum carefully on his plate.  He was aware of the little clink it made.  It rolled a little.

Finally, Mathias rose.  His hand rose in a halfhearted salute.  “Lukas and I set out tonight.”  Humming, his hand circled around a few rolls, which he dropped into one of the pockets of his overcoat.  “I hope you find who you are looking for.  There is a lot of pain in losing a loved one, but I am sure he is looking for you too.”  As he passed, one hand found purchase on Gilbert’s shoulder and squeezed, then brushed away as he left to find Lukas.

“We leave tomorrow as well,” Gilbert announced, though he had no dramatic exit because he had nowhere to go.  “You can come or you can leave.  Doesn’t matter to me.  I’m going to find him if I have to search this whole island, but I understand that it isn’t a burden I can force on any of you…”

“I’m coming,” Ludwig said quietly.

* * *

“I say to you, it is finished,” Ivan said, four weeks later.  Since he’d started, the caravan had snaked through the countryside deeper into the island, where the trees thinned and tumbled with the roll of the land.

It was rockier here; horses stumbled on chunks of debris or shifty gravel that made an upward hike difficult.  With the elevation came thinner air and colder, mist-shrouded mornings and even mistier evenings.  The tinge of saltwater in the breeze was a memory blocked out by the heavy, stillness wafting through the valleys.

Abel had them set up camp on one of a series of plateaus that climbed the mountain like uneven stairs.  The performers worked efficiently.  Where there had been nothing, a camp bloomed among the bramble and the crackle of a fire brought warmth to scathing wind.  A solid plume of smoke twisted upwards, as thick as the chatter of conversation and the clink of forks against plates.  A heart aroma of turnips and salted fish clung tightly.

“I don’t see much,” Abel said.  He leaned against the wagon that Ivan had designated his workshop.  He could only see in through the little door at the end—and really he could not see much, even in the flicker of the flame nuzzling up against the lantern’s walls.

Rivets, mostly.  Rivets and steel paneling and buckets and buckets of _sand_.

“I asked for a tank…” Abel said, blinking.

Ivan’s smile was simpering sweet.  “I asked for an alchemist or fire.  All I got was sand and instructions.”  He chuckled but pulled the materials out into the grass.  The steel was part of an armature system, Abel realized.  It curved in five rings, like the outline of an elaborate igloo, some forming the outer periphery and some forming the inner—the riggings for a tunnel.

“I told you to speak with Vladimir,” Abel said.  “After the fifth time you came to bother me.

By then, Antonio had sidled up to stare at the perplexing tangle of metal.  “Huh…”

“Please don’t waste my time unless you have actual results,” Abel mumbled to Ivan .  “We have a show in two days.  I need to make sure everything is set up…”

Ivan’s sigh was long-suffering and loud, but he reached back to knock against the wagon with the ring on one of his knuckles.  It gave a hollow tap.

Vladimir emerged, rubbing his eyes though the sun was already slinking beneath the horizon.  He yawned.  ‘Time already?”

“Five minutes ago,” Abel said.

Antonio blinked.  Here was a man he’d never seen before—presumably he’d joined with Abel after Antonio left.  How had he remained hidden, even during mealtimes, for the past four weeks?  The more he stared, the more perplexed he got.  It wasn’t like Abel’s band was small enough for him to know every worker by name, but it was small enough that he knew every face—and this peculiar shaggy-haired strawberry blond stood out, if not for the deep purples he worse or the odd little hat perched sideways on his head.

“I’m sorry, what is your name?” Antonio blurted out.

Vladimir tilted his head.  His eyes were sharp, but his smile good-natured though quiet.  “Vladimir Popescu,” he murmured.  “I do dark magic for the show.”

Antonio shivered.

“Don’t worry, it’s harmless enough,” he said.  He stared up at the sun then lifted a hand up to shield his eyes.  “I can also do the alchemy that apparently is needed here.  Don’t know why you all tell me to do things so last minute.  I was sleeping…”  He analyzed the items with a small nod, then pointed toward the wagons containing the tanks.  “I’ll need those too.”

“You heard him,” Abel said, nudging at Antonio.

Antonio was all too eager to hook up the horses to drag the tanks over.  Lovino popped his head up as the water sloshed up, scowling down at him.  “What the hell.  Trying to sleep, you ass.”

Two of the dolphins which sometimes slept with him rose to the surface as well.  One nudged at Lovino’s elbow and the other nuzzled into his chest.  Lovino yawned and chattered to them in their own language.  They chattered back.  Lovino snorted.

Emil had been grooming the horses, and he’d followed Antonio to the new site so he could finish combing out the tangles in its manes.  He glanced up at the dolphins and hid a smile, brushing more vigorously so that pants of exertion cut off his laugh.

Vladimir raised a hand in greeting to Lovino.  “Hello my aquatic friend!  You might get a little dizzy—and I do apologize.”

By then several more of the camp had gathered.  Elizabeta rolled her eyes.  “Someone let Vlad out of his cage?”

“Yes,” Vlad said.  “Because they needed it for you.”

Elizabeta’s middle finger was met by an equally rude gesture from Vlad, but he winked.  Elizabeta scoffed gently, shaking her head with bemusement.

“Stop flirting and get on with it,” Abel finally said.

Vlad winced at his choice of words, but walked to Ivan to study the sketch once more.  He nodded, pointed canines prodding into his bottom lip.  “Seems easy enough,” he said.  “Should be fun.” 

It took only a brush of his fingertips against the bucket of sand and heat billowed out of the air like a spontaneous explosion.  It captured the sand as it erupted up, then slathered it across the air like a sculptor molding his clay.  Once he’d achieved a dome, he elongated it with a flew flicks of his wrists—suspended in the air, until it met with the metal rods which supported it.  When he was finished, the sand structure was a large aquarium sunk into the dirt, with an entrance to a tunnel boring through.  Vlad grinned, amused at the captivated stares of his audience, then prodded at the tank.  It, all at once, leapt toward the aquarium—water and inhabitants alike—and drained into it as glass fused with sand.  He repeated the process for the other tanks until his creation was filled.  One last tap of the sand shattered the surface, and pure glass shed its dirty skin to sparkle in the setting sun.

Lovino, spinning head over fin, righted himself, arms tight around his stomach.  His head smacked the dome above him.  He flipped his tail and rammed into the curved bottom, seven feet from the ground.  By feeling along the glass, he found his bearings, and swam down to where the aquarium bulbed down on one side of the passageway.

“Damn…” Abel said.

“Yeah…” Antonio agreed.  He felt along the outside of it as well, circling around to one end to enter the tunnel.  His fingers trailed this wall as well, mouth set in a huge O.

Lovino followed alongside in the aquarium.  His hand prodded at where Antonio’s lay against the glass.  One of his dolphins swooped over and smacked at his chest, and Lovino absently wrapped his arms around its head.  “This is really fucking weird,” Lovino finally said.

The only way Antonio understood was by reading his lips.  He nodded and trailed to the other side of the tunnel where the other dolphin was prodding along opposite of Lovino.

“I like it,” Abel said.  He was tall enough that, by reaching up, he could graze the top of the tunnel.  Light filtered in dancing patterns through the water there, leaving a lacy pattern of oranges and pinks as gentle as the setting sun.  He looked over to Antonio.  “You’ll dance with fire under here.  The light reflecting from his scales will be stunning.”

Vlad nodded, satisfied, and jammed his hands into his pockets.  “If we’re done with this, I think I’d like to get a few more hours of sleep.”

“Can’t believe this shit is actually happening…” Lovino said.  Only the dolphins heard, and they chattered and flipped and spun around him.

Emil watched quietly from the wagon where the tank had been.  Slowly, he turned a long paintbrush over and over in his hands.

“My one concern,” Abel said as he emerged.  “Is transportation.”  He made a sweeping gesture to the massive structure dominating the camp.  “There isn’t a horse strong enough to manage this.”

“There aren’t exactly doors either…” Feliciano pointed out, feeling along one edge.  “How is he supposed to get out?”  The glass was cool to the touch.  He could almost feel the water lap against the edge.  With a tinge of jealously—born from watching the light coruscate from Lovino’s scales and the easy grace he wandered his tank—Feliciano let his hand fall, fingers curling as it hit his side.  He leaned his back against the tank and slid down.

“I can easily return the materials to what they were,” Vlad said.  “Child’s play. I can rebuild for each show, can change the shapes.  As for door, there is no need.”  A childlike yawn sent his eyes fluttering and he crawled back into his wagon.  Without a word, he rolled down the door at the end.

“It is a strategic design,” Abel said, “from a protective standpoint.  Anyone who decides to be a little shit during the show and make off with my Merman won’t be able to get to him.”  He scoffed to himself.  “Right.  Someone wake Vladimir up again.  Lovino isn’t going to sit in there all night.  Tomorrow we practice until we drop.  Our show is the next day.”


	15. Brothers are like that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was procrastinating editing a huge chunk of this chapter, which is why it took so long to post. Sorry ;;; Coming soon is the cutest Prumano reunion tho soooooo <3 Wasn't gonna let the babies suffer too long. Spoiler alert, oops.
> 
> On the bright side, I managed to write 50K words of a model AU with Prumano/Dennor this month. I won't post any of it until I'm finished writing the entire story, and I'm guessing it'll need another 10-20K words.
> 
> Status report on TMWFO: I have about 22K more words written that I have yet to post. After that, I'll probably need another 25K to finish out the story. I'm planning on working on it this and next month. 
> 
> lookit me doing my best to finish things nowadays.

“I’m jealous,” Feliciano admitted.  The following night, the pair was huddled near each other in the grass, staring up at a distant smathering of stars, though obscured by mist.  The moon had even slinked away.

Lovino stretched as far as his tail would allow.  The tips of his fingers tangled into the grass over his head.  He turned to bury his nose into the dirt and inhaled, then flopped over onto his back again.  “Why…”

Feliciano shrugged.  An idle hand stroked a few scales speckling Lovino’s elbow.  They tended to aggregate on rough patches of skin that saw wear and tear.  His next sigh was turned up to the sky.  “Just watching you swim today.  Practicing for the show…and the flames and the dancing.  I miss being able to swim,” Feliciano said.  “I miss the freedom.  I miss feeling graceful.  I miss turning summersaults and staring up at the sky through the patterns dancing through the water.”

“Oh…”  Lovino glanced over at him.  “You can still get in the water though.  Just hold your breath, I guess.  I don’t know.”

“It’s not the same,” Feliciano said.  “Humans really aren’t very efficient in the water and just thirty seconds and your lungs are burning like they’ll catch fire or something if you don’t rush up for air.”

“You can run, though,” Lovino offered.  “And jump and climb trees…?  Human shit?”

Feliciano snorted despite himself.  “All fun things.  It’s funny, the human that I fell in love with never did anything like that.  He was always so serious.  At least most of the time.  I could get him to laugh if I tried hard enough.”  He extended his legs to stare at the bump of his knees and the graceful swell of his calves.  He curled his toes.  “What is your human like?”

“H-huh?  I don’t fucking know,” Lovino grumbled.  His cheeks burned and his chest felt oddly tight.  He wrapped his arms around himself as he rose by the waist to stare out into camp.  In the distance, the fire murmured out its last and died to glowing embers.  The trail of smoke billowing up was a dark smudge against the sky. 

Feliciano waited, watching him.

“He’s…he’s stubborn as hell,” Lovino said, “But his heart is good.  He…seems to be searching for something and I don’t know if he fucking knows what it is.  But…he just keeps getting up and walking every time shit knocks him on his ass.  But he’s loyal and he always tries to do what is right.  I can depend on him…because I know he’ll do everything in his power to help.”

“Hm,” Feliciano murmured.

“What’s yours like?”

Feliciano licked his lips.  “A little like yours.  Strong.  Dependable.  Serious but at the same time…sweet.  He’s pretty shy and very dorky once he decides to let you see past his stony face.  More so, even though he’s muscular and firm and strong, he’s really gentle and steady.  I liked that.  I liked it…a lot.”  His sigh was a shuddering one.

“You…you okay?” Lovino asked.  He watched him carefully.

Feliciano was quick to nod.  “Yeah, I’m fine.”  He forced a little laugh.  “It’s just been a pretty crazy day, finding my brother again—I guess I’m just a little tired out from all the excitement.”  He rolled over to touch Lovino’s face, as if confirming that he was really there.  “You’re _here_ , you know.  You’re really here.  I—It’s still sinking in.  I can’t believe that you’re okay and even though I’m sad about some things, I’m just so happy that I can see you again.”

“Yeah,” Lovino said quietly.  “Me too.  I was scared everyone was dead…”  His fingers wrapped around Feliciano’s wrist and he took comfort in the faint pulse there.  “Fuck all that bad shit.  I’m glad too, at least for now…”

Feliciano nodded.  “I was about to give up hope, honestly.  Not just finding people, but in general.  It all seemed like a big mistake, after the fact.  Giving up my tail and all the things that made me happiest—like those times when we swam with dolphins and explored sunken ships together.  I guess things are different now, like it or not…we’ll just have to figure out how to make it all work…” 

“Yeah,” Lovino said slowly.  He watched him a few minutes.  “You know, it’s okay to be sad about shit.”

“I-I know…”  With a few shuddering breaths, Feliciano bit back a sob and drew his legs up to his chest—his façade cracking like sand through clenched fists.  Tears budded at his eyes, but he looked away and buried his face into his arms.  “How was I supposed to know?  How was I supposed to know this would _happen_.”

Slowly, Lovino drew up and rubbed at his back.  He was a steady warmth against his brother.  Then, pressing a kiss to his cheek, he wrapped himself around Feliciano even as he rocked back and forth, muscles locked tight and feet curled painfully inward like an overwound doll. 

“You just didn’t want to give up hope,” Lovino said.  “I get that.  Oh fuck it, I fucking _get_ that.  You did nothing wrong.  You didn’t.  Believe me when I say that.  Yeah I fucking hate everything that happened and I fucking hate seeing you like this.  But I always fucking loved that you never give up hope even when everything is going completely wrong.” 

With Feliciano still tight in his grip, he rotated himself along him til he was seated on his brother’s feet, arms around his shoulders and hands locked at his jaw near his ear.  He hovered close, staring intently into his brother’s eyes.  “When I thought I was alone, I tried to be like you.  I refused to give up hope.  S-so stop fucking sobbing and be the Feliciano I always loved.  O-okay?  Because if you don’t do that—h-how the hell am I supposed to get through this too?!”

All of Feliciano’s body ached with a combination of rigid muscles and heartbreak—so much that he didn’t feel Lovino’s spines slicing into his feet or the hard grip his brother still had on his face.  He turned his face up and his gaze to meet Lovino and nodded.  “I can try.  S’not like I have any choice…”  His laugh was weak.

“Damned right you don’t,” Lovino muttered, finally releasing him.  He rolled away from him with an undignified flop, but tugged Feliciano’s arm so that he lay beside him.  Lazily, he smacked at his shin with the wisp of his tail fin. 

“The two of us have each other now,” Feliciano said.  “We can be strong together.”  His fingers grazed Lovino’s face once more.  “I’m glad.”

They lay in a silent that was neither oppressive or comfortable, for what seemed like eternity.  The camp died around them as the last member raked at the coals, which shuddered and tumbled though red embers muted to black.  The last of the tents flapped closed.  A sleeping bag zipped.  The caress of lantern light pushing against the cloth snuffed into darkness.

“Would you…have given up your fin too…?” Feliciano finally asked.  “If you thought you could have a good life with the one that you loved.”

Lovino watched swathes of mist slink across the sky.  Muffled stars buried themselves into the faded quiet.  “Don’t know,” he said.

“For Gilbert?”

“If I thought there was no other option,” Lovino said.  “But I…I don’t know.  I love the land but I also love the ocean.  There are ways I could make…shit with Gilbert work even if I’m different from him.  I-I mean, I’ve only known him maybe a few weeks.  I couldn’t—I couldn’t fucking make that kind of decision no matter how much I like him.”

Feliciano made a noise of acknowledgment.  “I thought the ocean was empty.  I told you that I traveled with this camp as a Merman a little while.  I had the same idea as you—to attract enough attention that he’d come.  But after a tour he never came and I never heard anything about him.  I didn’t think I could reach him unless I looked by foot.  Then I found a witchdoctor who had me trade my scales.  And then I searched every inch of this island.  I can’t imagine why he would leave when he _knew_ I was waiting for him.  I figured he might have gotten hurt…so I checked every hospital and every medical place I could find…and then just town after town.  I half prayed that maybe he’d bumped his head and suffered amnesia and I’d find him wandering around…and then I could—I could kiss him and make him remember, or some kind of dumb fairytale like that.  I’m foolish…” he said.  “Too foolish.  So I returned to the only family I thought I had.”

“Hmm…” Lovino said.  “Everything anyone does is foolish as hell.  S’just how it is.”  He huffed a little, though he wasn’t offended, and picked at mud crusted along his tail.  Then, absently, he plucked a scale and handed it to Feliciano, one hand closing his brother’s fingers around it.  “S’just a fucking lousy scale, but—but you haven’t fucking lost everything.  So, don’t think you have.”

Feliciano held it to his heart with a choking laugh.  “That’s how this whole mess started.  I gave one measly scale away.” His fist tightened around it.  His eyes watered and his bottom lip quivered a little.  “Thank you.”

A rustle in the grass not born of the scattered winds peaked their ears.  Both brothers twisted around where they heard the muffled scuff of shoes.

A loan figure staggered past the wagon and fell to its knees.  It clawed at the dirt, heaving itself up alongside the ladder scaling the tank, and toed at the bottom rung as it tried in vain to pull itself up a few steps, then toppled back down onto its ass. 

Feliciano leapt to his feet, his arms wrapping a vicelike grip around the figure’s back so he could tug him upward.  Both stumbled backward. 

“Water…” it said, writhing around in Feliciano’s arms til he faced him.  Its hood fell over his eyes, but he clawed at it til it fell backward and the silver of hair shone dully in the limp moonlight.

“Emil?”

Emil shook his head then started pounding against Feliciano’s chest.  “Water.”  His knees buckled beneath him.

Feliciano nearly went down with him.

“You’re really out of it…” he murmured.  “Come on, let’s get you lying down in your bed…”  He helped lay Emil out on the grass first, though, taking care not to get his legs or arms twisted under him, then knelt down to smooth out his bangs and press a cool palm to his forehead.  “You’re feverish…”

“And really fucking pale,” Lovino said.

Emil shook his head furiously side to side, eyes screwed shut.  “Fuck you.  Just—water…let me go get water.”

Fists finding the dirt, Emil shoved himself upward, but Feliciano pushed him back down again.  “Lovino—um, lay on top of him or something just watch the spines—“  He glanced from the tents to the tanks then to the copse of trees circling the plateau.  “I’ll find you water, don’t worry.  You’ll be fine.  Just wait here…”

With a long sigh, Lovino rolled over on top of Emil, though he kept his tail draped to one side.  “Blame Feliciano, not me.  He told me to do this.”

Emil grunted and squirmed.  “You’re too heavy.  Get _off_.”  There was a rare venom in normally impassive eyes, even between ashen skin and the sweat soaking his brow.  His fingers were more like claws that battered Lovino, though his kicks were uncoordinated and his screaming more of a hoarse whine.

“You’ll wake the whole fucking camp,” Lovino snapped.  He glanced over toward the tents.  “Hurry the fuck up, Feliciano…” 

Emil clamped his mouth shut and continued struggling in silence until his breaths grew ragged and his chest fluttered with short, rasping breaths.  “Shit..shit…shit…shit…can’t—can’t…just get off…please…”

“The hell is your problem anyway,” Lovino said, though his brow creased and his voice softened.  His palm grazed Emil’s forehead like he’d seen Feliciano do.

A searing pain ripped through his wrist.  Emil’s teeth had sunk into his flesh and though they were not sharp enough to break the skin, they crushed at the bone there and left an angry half circle when he tore his face away.

“What the fucking _shit—_ “  Lovino’s thrashed wildly, squirming until he rolled off of Emil, one hand clamped around his wrist.  “what the fuck is wrong with you, you can’t just fucking—“

Still panting, Emil staggered to his feet and lurched forward, somehow finding his balance as he pitched toward the trees.  He disappeared there.

“Fuck you,” Lovino muttered.

Feliciano came running back, a bucket of water sloshing violently each time it banged his knees.  He dropped it when he saw Lovino lying there, and came running.  “Where did Emil go—“

“The little fucker fucking _bit_ me, who the fuck _does_ that anymore—“

“Huh—wha…?”  Gently, Feliciano took Lovino’s arm in his hands and carefully extended his wrist to stare at the teethmarks.  “He has a strong jaw…”

“Don’t be so fucking objective about it,” Lovino muttered, wrenching his hand free.  “Have no idea where the asshole went.  Don’t care after _that._   That fucking bastard.”

Feliciano shook his head.  “He wasn’t doing too well, though…”

Feet fell softly nearby.  “He does that…” Abel said.  He stood wrapped in a blanket, half asleep with tousled hair and drooping eyes.  “He’s sick a lot.  Don’t pay him any mind.  He disappears sometimes too but he’s always back by morning.  Followed him once.  Just goes to the river.  Sulks, I expect.”  A yawn swallowed him up, but he quickly collected himself.  Once properly awake, his lips set into a line.  “I want to know what that ungodly screaming was.  I’m trying to sleep.”

“Fucker bit me,” Lovino muttered, still nursing it.

Abel’s eyebrows shot up and it was impossible to tell if he was startled or impressed.  “That’s new.”  He turned, lifting one hand.  “Keep it down.  And get some rest.”  He vanished back into his tent without another word.

“I’ve never noticed him coming and going before now,” Feliciano said.  “But I guess I always had a habit of going to bed early and sleeping pretty heavily…”

* * *

 

“MerFolk—“ Vash reported, marching into the main foyer of the throne room where Lili sat working at a little table.

It was an impressive room, expanding out into the angles of a hexagon, the ceiling to match and the throne lazing in the center.  Though the throne was padded and the cushions velvet, red a regal compliment to shining gold armrests and the graceful curve of its legs, Lili preferred her wooden drop-leaf table shoved against the very back wall, where a single sky light flooded with the morning light and she could feel the texture of a seabreeze wander in.

The chair scooted back as she stood.  Her paper fluttered and the pen smacked to the floor and rolled til it sank into the groove between two stone tiles.  “Merfolk?”

Vash panted and clung to the pole of his spear; he’d rushed to find her.  “We can’t let your uncle overhear, but your pirates reported seeing four or five of them hanging around the west end of the island.  Didn’t engage.”

“Did you tell him he should speak with them and warn them…?” Lili asked.  She wrung her hands, then stooped down to pick up her lost pen.  It gave her something to occupy herself with as her gaze bored into Vash.

Vash nodded.  “Of course.”

“I am hoping that there will be no further delays in my getting the throne,” Lili said.  “So that I can pass the laws that I need to and hopefully change the attitudes of the people.  In the meantime, it’s best if we tell them to spread the word that this is not a safe place.  If there are those four Merpeople, then there must be others…”

“I fear it won’t be as easy to change the minds of the people,” Vash murmured, “But I agree with the last of your statement.”

“Just as long as they aren’t detected, they should be able to leave without issue…”

“Mathias knows what to tell them,” Vash repeated.  “He is competent for a sellsword.”

“Pirate,” Lili corrected with a meek little shrug.  “He takes his mission to heart.”

“Whatever his motives are,” Vash said with a nod. 

Lili paused, then approached Vash, taking his hand in hers as she tugged him along the throne room.  “It might be safer to talk in the cellars.  But, I need to send someone out to find Arthur Kirkland.  If there are news of these Merfolk, then perhaps they might know where his friend went.  It’s been a few months with no talk of anything.  I hardly doubt he was captured, because we’d hear about it.”

“I still think he’s chasing wind,” Vash said, “But I can do that.”  He cleared his throat gently.  “One of Mathias’s crew returned with me.  Big, stony-faced man.  He can give better details than I can.”

“Okay,” Lili said.  “I’ll meet him at the usual place.”

Lili entered the cellars down  stairs so worn that the centers dipped down.  One hand trailed the railing on one side and the other trailed rough stone.  Even in the darkness, she needed no light or guide to find her way.

Once she heard the water, she slipped through the wooden door into the chamber where she’d hosted Gilbert previously.  She whisked through it to the back door, and grappled with the padlock til it popped open.  This door gave with a low shudder, a giant wooden gate fortified with steel bars across.  Now the air was thick with the touch of water, which gurgled and lapped up against the stones that dipped into the channels of the underground harbor.

A single, small skipper bobbed there.  The man in question, as stony-faced as Vash had described, tossed a rope round and round a post and tied it with a grunt.  He turned when he heard the tap of Lili’s shoes.

“G’morning,” he said, tipping a blue hat.  Glasses flashed over steely blue eyes only amplified by the blue overcoat buttoned up to the very top.  Blond hair was kept trimmed.  “I’m Berwald.”  He nodded without offering any sort of bow, then tugged the end of the rope to test it.  Satisfied, he approached Lili with a contemplative stare.  “Mathias sent me.”

“I know who sent you,” Lili said. 

She had to crane her head to see Berwald’s face, as tall as he was, and though he was slim, he was broad-shouldered.  A quietness as formidable as mountains rolled off him.

Despite this, she kept her own shoulders relaxed.  “What do you have to report?”

“Sirens,” Berwald said simply.  “S’singing off the coast.  S’red flag.”

“Si…rens?”

Berwald blinked.  “Like the legends.”  He shrugged.  “Just real because…they’re real.”  He nodded as if that explained it.

“No, but Sirens?” Lili asked.  “Like the creatures that sing and lure men in and then drown them?  Like I mean, I’ve heard stories but like you said—legends.”

Berwald nodded.  “Cruel beasts.  Tails are red.  Means they want blood.”

“Why are they coming _here_ , though?”

Berwald tapped the center of his glasses with a blunt finger to adjust them on his nose.  “Like I said.  Blood.  Food.  Men.”  He leaned against the post that his boat was moored to, as if tired of talking.  “Mathias says to keep boats close.  They won’t travel near beaches.  Should pass by.”  Quietly, he added, “If you’re lucky” but he’d turned so that it was barely audible.  Already, his fingers tightened on the rope, then he started tugging and yanking at the loops in the knot until he could start unraveling it from the post, as if spinning a lasso.  “We’ll keep an eye.”  The boat rocked and bobbed as he climbed back into it.

Lili sank down onto the little dock, her legs swinging down.  Ripples burst out where her toes just barely skimmed the water.  “I appreciate it.  Just—just be careful as well.  You give a warning to keep boats away from the coast, but you are out there patrolling.  I don’t want you to fall to the Sirens either…”

Berwald’s lip twitched a little, but he hid it with a cough, hand a fist at his mouth.  “S’no worry.  We know what we’re doing.”

He returned to the main ship, which was anchored out into the waves somewhere beyond the shore, just where the reef dropped off into sheer black beneath.  He steered the little boat toward the two hooks trailing in the water, secured it, and waved a hand with a small grunt.

The boat shuddered then, creaking, the ropes pulled taut and jerked upward bit by bit.  When it reached the deck, Berwald crawled over and approached Mathias, who jammed the lever to lock the wheel.  Wordlessly, Lukas tied safety knots around the boat, so that it lay in the little groove designed for it in the railing.

“Did you deliver the news?” Mathias asked.

Berwald nodded.  “Didn’t understand the extent of the problem,” he grunted with a shrug.

“Probably because you tried to explain it in as few words as possible,” Mathias said, grinning.

Berwald’s shoulders rose and fell. 

“She’s never experienced Sirens before, probably,” Lukas interjected.  “How could she know?”

“They won’t approach the island,” Mathias said.  “Not likely.  Too dangerous for their kind.  They need the open sea.”  He unclipped the binoculars from the belt wrapped around his torso and squinted through them.

In the distance, the water rippled and twisted into tiny whirlpools, somewhere near the horizon.  The only indication of Merfolk was the flash of red in the haze of sun, and the tails slapping above water.  The pack made no net movement.

“Still.  Don’t like it,” Berwald said.  He nudged the binoculars from Mathias’s hands to take a look of his own.  He considered with he saw with a quiet sigh before handing them back.  “She said to be careful.”

Mathias scoffed into the back of his hand and nudged Lukas.  “Hear that, Lukas?  Be careful now, you hear?”

“I can throw you over the side,” Lukas said, “And you can swim back to shore.”

“Where’s Tino?” Berwald finally asked, glancing around.  It was too still on deck without Tino scurrying about to check the rigging or adjust the sails.  The wind almost howled without his carefree singing to mask it.

“I sent him out,” Mathias said strutting over to the railing.  Without the binoculars, all he saw was the occasional splash of water in the distance.  “He’s going to fetch that albino man and the Merman.  They’re somewhere inland still looking for the lost Merman, I think, but that can wait for the time being.”

Berwald stared quietly.  Tight lips and solemn eyes did not betray his confusion.

But Mathias sensed it.  “The Merman he has with him can relay messages faster than we can.  I expect it’s time he moved his search to the sea anyway, for the missing boy.”

“As we should be redirecting our own search to land,” Lukas murmured. 

“He’ll come back when he’s ready…” Mathias said.  “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but if he doesn’t want to be found then it’ll be hard as hell to actually find him.”

He did not like the glower Lukas shot him, but he jammed his hands into his pockets.  With a sigh, he deflated, and turned his head to watch the Sirens.

“He might not know how to be found,” Lukas retorted, though he too had deflated.  He rested his hands on the railing and looked out the opposite direction, toward the swell of land.  A small frown persisted, even though he changed the subject.  “And the human isn’t necessary, then.  You’ll just put him in danger of the Sirens.  We can take only the Merman.”

“I don’t think they’ll allow themselves to be separated, is all,” Mathias said.  “Brothers are like that.”

Lukas stared down at his feet.  “Not all brothers…” 

 


	16. A Merman and a Firebender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bABIES. I think this is my personal fav chapter.
> 
> in other news, I cleaned my apt today and my energy levels are up after a pretty low week. awh yiss!

On the morning of the show, the circus was a tangle of activity.  Antonio and Abel ran left and right, weaving through hoards of performers hefting boxes, ducking beneath cables pulling taut, hurtling over the thick wires that yanked at the tent walls—

Chatter and shouting was as thick on the heavy air as the ring of the mallets driving stakes into the ground.  Neglected, the fire huddled low on the logs.

The tent was mostly for show.  Red and white striped, it pitched three major peaks along one axis, the tallest in the center.  Stakes and wire peeled the periphery open in segments.  Inside, workers cleared the grass and set up the safety net for the tightropes and the acrobatics bars, which hung from a suspension system on the ceiling.  There was no seating, just an area cleared out for people to crowd; they’d only need to stare upward, not forward.

Lovino drew off the nervous energy, but could only express it with the fidget of his hands and the cutting back and forth in his tank.  Occasionally he would bob up to listen to the dull roar of many working, scowl toward them, then dunk back under as his tail twitched and slapped against the wall.  The gold cuffs on his wrists and the base of his fin were more like manacles than finery to him.

“Goddammit, why do I have to be trapped in this box.”

He wanted to run around the camp.  He wanted to be a _part_ of what was happening—to heave at the ropes with clumps of men still erecting a second smaller tent, to poke the fire, to stand amidst a hundred paths that took scattered supplies and built the circus from the ground up.

A vibration shifted the glass.  Lovino glanced up to see the smear of a black coat against the wall of his tank, so he surfaced and peered down.

It was Abel, leaning back against the tank as he watched the workers.  He’d reached up and knocked behind him.

“Nervous?”Abel asked.

“No,” Lovino said, too quickly.

Abel chuckled a little and turned to look him square in the eye.  “You practiced and you’re a natural.  It’s all things you already excel at.  There is no reason to be nervous.”

“I’m being turned into a display for an island full of strangers,” Lovino said.

“We all are,” Abel answered, “Though your predicament brings more danger and perhaps more loss of dignity than mine ever will.”

Lovino shrugged.  “Don’t know what to think about anything anymore,” he said. He tried to scoff, but slipped under the water too soon and it came as a ripple.  With a flick of his fin, he resurfaced, gripped the side of the tank, and spat the water that had flooded into his mouth.  “I feel so damn…far away from everything.  Maybe because I wasn’t there or because I’d been alone so long.  I feel like none of this shit is real.  I know I’m supposed to be angry but I’m just damn tired.”

Abel patted at his elbow.  “Takes a while to figure shit out.  We don’t expect you to know how you feel instantly.  Most of us don’t exactly get along with the world for one reason or the next.  Just make the show something to talk about and people will.  Don’t think about who they are or what they may or may not have done or what they would do if given the chance.  Think of them as a way to reach the one you lost.  For now, the thing that can help you get by is thinking about the future and what you need to do to get yourself where you want to be.  You don’t just float along in real life.  S’not some lackadaisical stream or whatever.”  He sighed and dipped his head a little.  “Look.  Just focus on the show.  You can even touch my hair if you think it’ll bring you luck.  Antonio always has meaningless rituals like this too, with good luck charms.”

“The hell?”

“Don’t be coy,” Abel said.  “I’ve seen you eying it.  Just touch it and get it over with and get ready.  Vlad will come around shortly to construct the tank.”

Carefully, Lovino reached out toward Abel’s head, which he kept ducked.  His fingers tangled into the tuft of spiked hair on Abel’s head, then jerked away as if he’d been bitten.  He smiled a little.  “How the hell is it so soft if it’s so damn spiky?  The hell are you humans.”

“I’m awesome as shit,” Abel said with a shrug.  “That’s all I can really guess.”  He stepped away.  “Okay, now that that is out of your system, never again.  He smirked toward the ground and left.

Once the tank was assembled, Lovino was allowed greater space to flit around and burn excess energy.  Set in the center of camp, he could see everything; he watched the workers secure the flaps of the tents with rope, so that entryways swooped open.  Around them, the semi-circle of carts sheltered their camp, panels open to reveal fortune tellers, magicians, painters, dancers—

By then, a few people from the town nearby had begun the trek up the footpath from their village and were milling about the skeleton of the circus.  Abel stood at the gate there, accepting bills which he secured in a wooden box, the key around his neck. 

Lovino felt an odd thrill, one born of apprehension but the other of excitement.  He felt oddly exposed, though shut off by glass and a barrier of water, such that he caught only vibrations instead of sound.

With a shudder, he felt eyes upon him.  He fought the urge to shrink away, instead turning to stare back at the toddler looking up at him from inside the tunnel, one finger jabbing upward.  His mother stood nearby.

Lovino blinked.  _That’s what their young look like…?_   He wandered closer, til he was resting on the curve of the tank just above the toddler.  He stared back.

Eyes widening, the toddler bounced up and down, pointing more vigorously until his father came ducking in and swiped him up to plop him on his shoulders.  The child could now prod at the domed ceiling with his finger, the other tightened into his father’s hair.  He babbled away, grinning, eyes still huge.

“Hello,” Lovino said, though he knew the toddler could not hear him.  Instead, he waved, a shy smile touching reddened cheeks.  Then, as embarrassed as he was, he retreated to the other side of the tank with a few flips of his tail. 

Lovino’s discomfort grew as more flocked in and around the tunnel.  He could see fingers pointing and lips moving, but could not tell much beyond open mouths and staring eyes.  No matter where he moved, there was no escape.

Swallowing and resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself, Lovino decided to seek out a familiar face somewhere in the camp.  He spotted Feliciano not too far away, tending to the dolphins meandering around one of the giant inflatable pools they used for performances.  He tossed fish up over his shoulder and they would leap up and catch them, some in midflip.  The crowds there applauded and cheered, even as water slapped down onto them.

Lovino sighed his relief and flitted to the other side of the tank.  He could make out Antonio dropping powders into a little basin of fire.  Onlookers leapt back as it exploded and raged in blues and greens and purples, then quieted down into wisps of pink smoke.  As if Tonio knew he was being watched, he glanced up and caught Lovino’s eye, even from that distance.  He gave him a slight nod as if to reassure him, then coaxed the fire back up again with nothing more than a few puffs of breath.

“I’m a performer like them,” Lovino reminded himself, though he scowled down at the mass of people below.  “Not some kind of caged animal on display.”  He more he moved about, the more he churned the water, until their faces were blurred out.  He spun a few lazy circles then stretched back into a flip, his body a gracefully tumbling ring.

Finally, Abel called the crowds round toward the tent.  The main show was about to start.   They huddled into the cavernous enclosure where the acrobats swooped from bar to bar, twisting and spinning in the air only to pluck themselves up and swing again.  Arrows zipped and shot between their legs or in the space between joined arms—when one acrobat hung from his legs and the other held to his hands.  A tightrope walker joined them—Francis—decked in flashing reds and wreathed in a crown of petals, walking easily between their scrambled paths as if taking an afternoon stroll.  The apple did not so much as wobble atop his head, until an arrow pierced it.  With a flourishing bow and quick reflexes, Francis yanked it from its fall and took a bite, careful to avoid the arrow head. 

Lovino scoffed and rolled his eyes.  He’d seen the act a hundred times in practice, but in the energy of the crowd and the fevered excitement emanating from the performers, it was all so very over the top.  Still, he could not turn his eyes away.

His heart pounded up into his throat when he realized that the show inside was dwindling down.  His fears were confirmed when Antonio wandered into the tunnel and started setting up his gear, pausing to grin up at Lovino with a little thumbs up. 

“It’ll be great!” he mouthed.

Lovino cocked his head then scowled.  He puffed his cheeks out at him, gills flaring, then dove to drape over the bottom to peer down.

Antonio’s eyes crinkled with a small laugh.  One strike of his flint sparked bright, then leapt to the oil soaked wick of one of his torches.  He thrust one end into the ground and let it burn there as he began oiling himself up with a special salve that made his body resistant to fire and gave already rippling muscles a slight sheen.  The scar streaked across his chest shone silver.

Then, as Abel and several workers herded the people around the outside of the dome, he began to stretched, limb by limb.  When he finally stood, surveying the masses of people crowding around, he glanced up and winked at Lovino.  The sun had begun to sink below the mountains, and the reds and oranges blotting the sky rapidly deepened.

The oncoming night set the perfect tone for Antonio’s dance; the ribbons of flame would roar brighter in the darkness.

Carefully, Antonio tugged on special gloves, which had been soaking in a jar with a second salve, then dipped his hands into the torch.  The flames shuddered but crawled up into his palms.  He held them up in a mock shrug.

A hush settled over the crowed and they grew unnaturally still.

Tonio’s chest rose and fell with several breaths and he stood as if in meditation, eyes shut and head down.  Then, his form slid into graceful movement, one hand making a sweeping gesture in front then arching upward while the other moved down his side and toward his hip.  The fire leapt across his chest into a ribbon, which swathed him like gently caressing silk.  He moved slowly like this for a time, intimately, sensually.

But then his eyes sprang open and greens as alive and vibrant as the fire flashed as a mischievous little smile curled along his lips.

Lovino swore his heart stopped.  He circled the tank, eyes locked on Antonio.

Antonio’s motion erupted into something wild but equally graceful, his body spinning and spinning while his arms looped the ribbon faster still, til it lengthened and flowed like the licking flames of a wildfire.  He urged it wilder, until his chest was heaving and sweat beaded at his forehead.  The fire licked and leapt and twisted around him of its own accord, like a shell that protected him against the prying eyes outside of something that seemed almost private.

And Lovino, wandering the periphery, felt the light glance off him, his own scales reflecting the flashing fires back into the darkened space beneath him.  It danced as specks of blues and greens around Antonio and merged into the lacy movement of the water around him.  A slow, strange excitement welled within Lovino and he moved faster, spinning his own patterns through his tank, up and around and over, until the lights collided and smeared.  He felt his gills flare faster and his heart pound harder.  He wanted to scream out until his throat burned raw and all the oxygen poured from him.  Even the gold of his jewelry paled in comparison, lackluster in the light of flickering colour.

With a final breath, Antonio allowed the fire to wash from him like he was shrugging a robe from his shoulders.  It pooled onto the ground and wisped into nothing, leaving only ashes dusting his already dark skin, and a strange sense of calm in the darkened night.  Even Lovino grew impossibly still.

There was a moment where the crowd just stared in awe, but slowly, like drizzle strengthening into a downpour, they erupted into applause and cheering.  Antonio hung his head, an abashed smile nothing like that wild thing on his lips earlier, and rubbed at the soot masking his face.  He bowed slightly and leaned against the wall.  Lovino dropped down to join him, just behind him, body leaned against where Antonio’s was separated by the glass.

He’d never felt more alive in his life.

* * *

 

By the time the crowds sifted away to meander through the rest of the small performances, repeating in loop for those who filtered in and out, Vlad had returned the tanks to their original state.  Abel stood nearby, watching the crowds though he leaned relaxed against the wagon.  A cool stare belied muscles tensed for potential threat.

“You did good,” Abel said.  “People will talk about that from end to end of this damn island.”  He half climbed the ladder to ruffle at Lovino’s hair.  Though the action was good-natured, it was anything but gentle.

Lovino hid a pleased little smile and fought the impulse to talk a mile a minute, that strange energy still burning in his veins.  Instead, he watched the proceedings quietly.

“He’ll come soon, then,” Lovino said after some time.  “Gilbert will.  He’ll come running once he knows there is a Merman here.”

Abel nodded with a hum.  He lit his pipe and drew at it.  An earthy smoke rushed from his mouth.  “If he’s half what I heard about him from you, he’ll be here as soon as he can.”  He pushed off the tank.  “Behave yourself, yeah?”  He lumbered off to coordinate teardown for the night.

“S’not worth getting your hopes up,” Emil said, where he’d been scrubbing the dolphins in a practice pool ten feet away.  “People always prioritize themselves first.”

“You’re one to fucking say anything,” Lovino muttered.  “You fucking _bit_ me earlier—“

Emil shrugged.  “You sat on me.”  He scoffed a little, but it was a sad, strangled thing.  “Just whatever.  At the end of the day, the ones who say they love you don’t really mean it.  Not when it comes down to it.  Not when it becomes inconvenient.”  He patted the dolphin once and stalked off to sulk.

“I don’t give a fuck about what you have to say, so there—“ Lovino called out, somewhat lamely.

“Don’t engage with him.”

Lovino twisted around, ears perking up at the familiar lilt of Tonio’s voice.  “Yeah, well, he started it.”

“I think he’s really sad inside,” Tonio said, “Which makes him say things he doesn’t mean.”

“He can go fuck himself,” Lovino said.  He nodded, satisfied that he’d gotten the last word, though Emil was long out of earshot by then.

Antonio just sighed and shook his head, then clamored up a few rungs of the ladder.  “How are you feeling?”

A rare grin spread across Lovino’s cheeks, but he dipped beneath the water so that only his nose and eyes showed.  His answer was a gurgled “fine” that was more bubble than actual sound.  He puffed his cheeks as he surfaced, and spewed the water out toward Tonio.

Antonio shifted to one side to dodge.  His laugh rang out and he shoved at the water to splash Lovino back.  “Be nice!”

“You’re the one who needs a bath—“ Lovino retorted.  He pressed a dripping hand against Antonio’s bare chest.  Soot dribbled away.

Blinking, Antonio scratched at his forehead, staring at the dark rivulets.  “So you’re right…huh.”  Instantly cheerful again, he ruffled Lovino’s hair.  “Not a bad first performance, my friend.”

Lovino nodded.  “I think I liked it…” he admitted.  “I feel like I’m not supposed to, but I did…”

“Performing is a bit of a rush, I’ll admit,” Antonio said.  “It is something I have always enjoyed doing, though it certainly can take over your life.”

“Well…we’re under contract,” Lovino said.  “So we kind of have to make it through as long as it takes…then…then Gilbert and I can leave and maybe you can come with us.”

Antonio shook his head.  “I left my family once.  I do not wish to leave them a second time.  Not when I have been so graciously accepted back, even by Abel.”

Lovino grunted and nodded.  “When is…when is the next show?”

“In three days,” Antonio said.  “We travel down the mountain then around to a valley that’s only a few days from here.  It’s a lovely spot.  There’s a HUGE lake, so I know you’ll love it.  Crystal clear waters, huge fish…just all around one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.”

Lovino nodded again.  “So I can…swim in real water for a bit and not this damn tank…”  He’d begun to feel cramped in the enclosed space, and the water tasted staler by the day, though Antonio and João were tasked with cleaning it.

Antonio nodded.  “Yep!  Of course, I’ll have to come keep an eye on you.  Not because Abel doesn’t trust you, but because if word gets out that we have a Merman, people might not always have the best intentions.”

Lovino’s groan came from deep in his chest.  “Yeah…forgot…”  He swallowed hard.  “It’s not something I like thinking about.”

Antonio rubbed at his shoulder.  “I know.  I know.”

Clipped tones alerted him, and he slid down the ladder, landing quietly on the ground.  “Just one moment, Lovino.  I better see what is going on…”  He walked with his back to the wagons, one step over the other, until he could peer around a corner.

Abel was shooing one last straggler from camp.  He spoke courteously, but his voice was just as dangerous as the dagger gleaming in his hand.  “Show’s over.  We allow no one in camp after the last act.”

“No, I need to speak with you—“ the intruder insisted.

By then, several of the crew members had sidled closer, but they stuck to the shadows.  Among them was Feliciano.

“You should have done so earlier.  Now leave before I throw you out.”  Abel’s stance widened ever so subtly.  A sideways glance of his eyes, and he knew he had back-up.

“The Merman—my daughter is dying—“

Abel’s frown pressed harder.  “I especially won’t let you near him.”

The man fell to his knees.  “It’s the plague.  I think it’s back…please she’ll _die_ if I don’t get his scales…even just a handful—I’ll pay you millions—you won’t even have to rely on this circus—you’ll be set for life.”

Abel blinked, but scoffed.  “This whole scenario is looking too familiar.  The answer is still no.  I do not sell one of my own.”  He gestured toward João, who stepped from the shadows, his sword pressed forward.

“Look, friend, I am sorry,” João said.  “I wish your daughter the best of luck recovering, but just like our ringmaster here, I’m not too keen on trading Lovino’s life for hers.”

“Just a _handful_ —“

“That’s what they said _last time_ —“ came the shriek from behind the wagon.  Feliciano tore out, his fists tight and tears seeping from his eyes.  His teeth grit and his lips were twisted into an uncharacteristic snarl.  For the first time, there was the raw pain extracted from a normally smiling face.  “They said one or two scales—then my brothers and sisters started falling one by one.  Nature will take its course—“  Breath seething, it took everything in him to settle his face into something almost composed, though his eyes were too bright and his shoulders still trembled.  He shook his head.  “That’s my answer.  I’m no longer foolish—or naïve or whatever.”

“You heard him,” Abel said.  “Don’t make him repeat himself.”  He hefted the man up by the collar of his coat.

Feet dangling inches from the ground, the man struggled and writhed as he cried out. 

“Find a good doctor,” Abel said.  “Lovino owes you nothing.”  He shook him, looming over him, then stalked off with him in tow, back down toward the town.

Collectively, the camp released a breath.  Antonio rushed back to Lovino to offer a comforting pat to his wrist.  “You alright?”

Lovino nodded.  He realized how tightly he’d been gripping the side of the tank, and slowly pried his fingers lose.  “Y-yeah.  Thanks—thanks for—defending me.”  He felt an invasive itch along his scales and thrashed a little to push it from his mind.

Feliciano also stumbled near.  His eyes were red, but his tears were gone.  He rubbed an arm across his face with a small groan.  “Sorry, everyone.  That was…that was an overreaction.  I’m just tired is all…just tired.”  He forced a little chuckle, but it sounded as flat as his lies.  “Some people are just unreasonable.”

To everyone’s surprise, Emil intercepted Feliciano, offering an arm of support, gripped around his elbow.  “Damn entitled people,” he agreed quietly.  “C’mon.  I’m tired of hanging around everyone anyway.  I have food in my tent.  We can laugh at how dumb that guy was for even asking.”

Feliciano’s laugh was fragmented, but he sniffled and nodded his head.

With a pang of jealousy, Lovino paced his tank.  By all rights, it should have been him leading Feliciano somewhere private.  “I can’t even fucking comfort my own brother anymore,” he managed.  “Even if he wanted me too…”

If Antonio had overheard, he made no indication of it.  “Alright, well, I’m going to sleep nearby.  It’s a nice night out, so it’ll be just fine with a sleeping sack under the stars.  Are you alright to get some rest now?”

Lovino nodded and coiled along the bottom of his tank.  Quietly, Antonio tugged the padded sack out into the grass near his wagon, then set up a little lantern.  He still wore his gloves, so it was a matter of snapping his fingers to spark a pinprick of flame, which he gently transferred from his fingertip to the wick.  The little door creaked and clicked shut when he tapped it.  The flames hugged the glass and the air around the lantern with a lambent glow.  Antonio’s smile was just as warm, watching it.

Abel returned not fifteen minutes later.  “If that plague is really coming back, I don’t want to be anywhere near it,” he said, shaking his head as he pressed it into his hand.  He rubbed his temples.

“It’s an overreaction, most likely,” Antonio said.  “People always assume the worst.  It’s probably the latest bout of fever that strikes every few seasons.”

“True,” Abel said.  “I don’t like that he was slinking around.  If I hadn’t confronted him, he’d probably have dived right into Lovino’s tank or something.”  He pursed his lips.  “I’ll take first watch.  Antonio, you take second.  Francis, you take third, and Elizabeta, I want you on fourth.  I’m less than amused.  When we set up a new camp, we are taking extra precautions.”

There was a general murmur of agreement.

* * *

 

Weeks later, Tino found Gilbert and Ludwig somewhere in a mountain tavern, halfway into the island.  It was abandoned, lost in dwindling pathways and a steady migration to the sea.  Most swore the plague still festered in the villages it had rotted away.  Gilbert only scoffed, steering the wagon past the orange warning posts, through a thick bramble, and up the mountain where he and Ludwig could rest in solitude.

The tavern, though soaked in dust, looked as if it were only abandoned months ago.  Cups still crowded one of the bars.  Plates towered in stacks to dry, a wadded up cloth discarded nearby. A gentle silence born of a stream gurgling nearby or the sun peering in through the slats on ceiling made it seem as if the first few customers would come wandering in for a raucous night.

“This really is something,” Ludwig said. 

“I bet they consider it dirty,” Gilbert said, “I don’t expect any germs could live that long anyway.”

“Maybe it’s just a case of not wanting to revisit the past,” Ludwig said.  He was perched precariously on one of the barstools, tail wrapped around the base for balance.  “A place that was once so alive with the voices of your friends…would take on an eerie silence when they are gone.”

“Don’t get too weirdly deep on me,” Gilbert muttered.

Ludwig shrugged.

Gilbert tossed himself over the counter, landing with a thud that rattled the plates.  “Wonder if there is still _beer_ around here…”

Ludwig allowed himself a little chuckle.  “That would be your first thought.”  He yawned a little and watch as Gilbert rifled through the cabinets then rapped his knuckles against a few barrels still piled in the back.  They came back hollow.  “It has been a long time since I’ve had beer or anything like that,” Ludwig admitted.

“Oh man, what a sad life my little brother lives!  No beer to even help him through the day!”  He waltzed up to a second barrel and pressed his weight against it, back then forth, to give it a good shake.  With an ear against the wood, he could hear a deep slosh.  “Awesome.”  He slid down and around toward where he found a cork jammed near the bottom.  His grin only spread wider.  “Unopened!  Sweet!”

Ludwig sighed and shook his head.  “You’ll make a mess.”

“It’s not like anyone lives here,” Gilbert said.  “And the very idea of leaving something like this abandoned is just…just rude.”

“I hope you’ll share.”  Tino stood at the doorway, glancing from the tracks smeared into the floor to Ludwig to Gilbert.  The picture of relaxed poise, he waited with one hand draped across his saber handle and the other leaned against one of the wobbling tables.  Blond hair and an easy smile feigned naivety.  “I’m speaking to Gilbert and Ludwig Beilschmidt, I am hoping.”

Sidestepping toward Ludwig, Gilbert refused to take his eyes from the intruder.  “And who are you?”  He kept his tone light, but his eyes were hard.

“I’m Tino Väinämöinen,” he said as nonchalantly as before.  “I was sent by my captain, Mathias Kohler, to find you.”

Gilbert blinked.  His shoulders relaxed a little but his laugh was a little forced.  “Seems like a waste of time.  How did you find us here in the middle of nowhere?”

“I tracked you,” Tino said.  “It’s not that hard.”

Gilbert groaned.  “Then track the Merman for us.  Trail’s been running cold…not that it ever was warm.”

“Wish I could, really I do,” Tino said.  He trekked toward them to scoot himself onto a bench near Ludwig.  His feet did not quite touch the floor, so he tucked them against the bar there and pressed his elbows to the counter for balance.  Quietly, as if out of respect, he removed the beret from his head and set it beside him.  “I thought you were going to open that.”

“You’re not going to get to the point?” Gilbert asked, though he moved toward the barrel again.

Tino shook his head.  “When you live on a ship, the best you get is salty grog.  I maximize on every chance I get to pretend I live in the lap of luxury.”  There was a strange good-natured optimism in the way his eyes sparkled and the curl of his lips.  His nose wrinkled a little.  “Plus, I like to make Mathias jealous sometimes.”

Ludwig smiled.  He’d been studying him carefully, but now he looked away with a little cough.  “Yes, I could use some as well while our guest explains the nature of his visit.”

“Tino,” he reminded him, watching Gilbert flit around, flinging open drawers in search for a tool.  He found a little mallet, which he shook free from a tangle of utensils.  They clattered, some crashing to the floor.  He stepped over the mess to start tapping at the cork.  The way he concentrated, his life depended on it.  His brow furrowed and his tongue poked from the corner of his mouth.

One last blow knocked the cork from the cask with a loud pop.  Liquid dumped out in heaving spurts, then settled into an even flow.  Gilbert lunged forward with a trio of glasses, which he pulled away overfilled and frothing.  Beer sloshed over as he clunked them onto the counter.  Then he kicked a trough under the flow where a thick puddle already seeped across the floor.  The beer thundered in.

Gilbert’s laugh was hearty and just as loud.  He slurped down the beer from his glass, and set it down.  Froth settled as a mustache over his lip, but he wiped it with the side of his arm with a relieved sigh.

Ludwig laughed in spite of himself.  “Find beer and Gilbert is already in a good mood.  Or as good of one as he can fake for my sake…”  He handled his carefully, sip by sip, carefully wiping away the froth with the back of his hand.   He looked at Tino carefully.  “I hope you have good news.  This is the first I’ve seen him laugh in a long time.  It’s been dead end after dead end.  We had another tracking with us, but he labeled it a lost cause and gave up a month ago.”

Tino took a swig of his own, but set it down to talk.  “I have no news about the Merman you are seeking.  Mathias gave me details on that, but even with my tracking skills, it’s easier to find someone who has been on foot or by wagon.  I have no leads to go off of in the first place.”  He scratched at his scalp and downed half the beer in a few gulps.

Ludwig winced as Gilbert came swinging round, slipping onto the stool next to his to throw an arm around his shoulder.  He glanced to find that his brother had already finished his beer and was mostly through a second.  He gulped at it as if it contained life itself, and not simply a numbing sensation that seeped through his limbs. 

“Pace yourself,” Ludwig warned.  One hand gripped the counter for support against Gilbert’s weight.

“Calling me a lightweight?” Gilbert said.  He spoke in just as clipped a tone before, though the furrow in his brow was smoothed and eyes seemed too distant to harbor the usual desperate pain.  He gestured at Tino with his glass.  “Alright, speak.  Figured if it wasn’t about Lovino, didn’t need to be all that sober.”  He knocked the rest of that glass back.  It thudded into the counter with a muffled tap.  “Needed this too long to wait anyway.”

Tino rolled his eyes.  “I could compare you to one or more of my family members but they aren’t here to defend themselves.”  He snorted, but turned to Ludwig.  “Actually, I was asked to recruit the pair of you back to the ship.  Ludwig mostly.  We have need of his innate abilities.”

“I…I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Tino tilted his head toward Ludwig’s tail.  “Just that we need a Merman to help us with something important.”

Sharpness returned to Gilbert’s expression.  As Ludwig had predicted, a lot of his tipsiness was just for show.  It pained him to see that same sadness seep back in, even beyond the light haze dulling his senses.

“I’m not going back to sea,” Gilbert said, fingers curling around the handle to his empty glass.  “Because that’s not where Lovino is.”

“You don’t have to come,” Tino said coolly.  “You can continue to search for Lovino.  Like I said, we need a Merman.”

“With…what exactly?” Ludwig asked.  He placed a warning hand on Gilbert’s knee, but the squeeze was more out of comfort than anything else.  “I would be happy to help in any way I can, if we can arrange some sort of agreement concerning Lovino.”

“I figured it would come down to that,” Tino said.  “You probably should be glad they sent me and not Lukas, then.  I’m a whole lot nicer than that guy.”  He clicked his tongue, half chiding himself, and stretched.  “The situation is that we have Sirens circling the island.  Mathias seems determined that they’ll just wander on past, but I know better than that.  He’s pretty optimistic, I guess.  A Merman is completely immune to their song and can get close enough to figure out just what they’re up to.”

“Song?”

Tino nodded.  “Yeah, when they sing it entrances any human close enough to hear it.  There have been young maidens who have thrown themselves from lighthouses to reach the source.  Those that do make it in one piece?  They’re devoured, drowned, strangled—just depends on what the Siren feels like that day.”

Gilbert winced.  “That’s morbid.”

“Sailors at sea stand no chance,” Tino continued with a shrug.  “Even the largest fleets can be massacred if they stray too close to Siren territory.”

“You don’t seem all that concerned,” Gilbert said.  “About your safety.”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” Tino said.  “But it’s not like my crew can really control these creatures.”

Ludwig bit back a shudder that teased down his spine.  Bumps prickled his arms.  He held to his elbows.  “I’m not sure I can be much of a help either.”

“You’d be surprised.”  Tino trailed off, investigating the tavern a few minutes, head turning to look at the wall behind him and the dirt-flaked windows that held fast against the sun outside.  “As for you, Gilbert.  I can imagine you wouldn’t want to be near even if Lovino was in the ocean.  It’s understandable, really.”  He fiddled with the head of his saber.  “So I’ll make a trade.”

Gilbert’s eyes narrowed.  “What for what?”

“If you’ll allow me to borrow your brother I’ll give you information.”

“I thought you said that—“

Tino shrugged.  “I’m tricky that way.”

If Gilbert wasn’t sober before, he definitely was now.  He leaned forward slightly.  “What kind of information?”

“A possible lead,” Tino said.  “I’ve been walking a ways.  I hear things from people that you wouldn’t necessarily have heard, considering you probably avoid the main roads or towns.”  His gaze swept the abandoned tavern as if to illustrate his point.  “Let me borrow your brother and I will tell you everything I heard.”

Gilbert exchanged looks with Ludwig.  “It’s not my choice to make.”  It pained him to say so.  His teeth clenched.

Ludwig swallowed and tapped idly against his glass.  He’d drunk maybe half at most, but now it did not appeal to him.  Instead, he felt nausea sink deep into the pit of his stomach.  “I am willing to assist you for a short period of time.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh. 

“Are you sure?” Gilbert asked.  He leaned as if he wanted to bolt from the chair—to shake Tino to spill out every drop of information he had.

Tino sat calmly.  Serenely.  He did not interrupt.

Ludwig nodded once.  “You will have the ability to go through heavily populated areas without worrying about me.  I will be fine.  It’s the ocean after all.”  His smile was more a grimace.  “And if it’s a lead, perhaps you’ll find Lovino soon and can join us on the ship.”

Tino gave a murmur of agreement.  “You’ve been to the castle before.  You can get a message to us very quickly if needed!”

“Right,” Gilbert said, offering a hand.  “Then it’s a deal.  You can have Ludwig for as long as he is willing to help.  Just tell me _something_ helpful…”  His chest rose in a conflict of excitement, anticipation, nervousness, dread, hope—

“On my way past Ulta just a few kilometers down the mountain, I saw posters,” Tino said.  “Seems a circus had been through there.”

“A…circus?”

“Yeah,” Tino answered, tugging the flyer from his pocket and smoothing it out over the bar.  He scooted it over.

It was weather-worn and faded.  The folds criss-crossing it crinkled through large painted letters curling around the likeness of a tent.

When Gilbert dragged it toward him, he found it was as soft as cloth, as many times as it had been folded and refolded.  It sagged backwards when he picked it up.

“A bit worse for the wear,” he grumbled, squinting as he brought it close to his face.

“Sorry about that,” Tino said with a wry little laugh.  “I was hopeful it would hold answers for something else, but common sense won that battle.  Ber would say that it often does.”

A puff of air lifted Gilbert’s bangs from his forehead.  “Why do you think Lovino will be here?”

“Because there’s talk of a Merman,” Tino said, “A Merman and a Firebender ‘intertwined’ I think was what they said.  They say that the flash of fire reflects off the Merman’s scales in such a way that they just _shine_ and scatter green and blue across the crowd and through the water.”  He laughed.  “Poetic, huh?”

“That doesn’t sound like something Lovino would do…” Gilbert muttered.  There was no denying the white of his knuckles as he gripped the bench tighter.  Patience fought the energy coiling deep within him, every muscle screaming to rip open that door and urge the horse ever faster up the mountain toward this circus.  _Damas_ , he thought, rereading the poster.  _That’s where I need to go._

“Any lead is better than none,” Tino said, pursing his lips.  He clucked his tongue like a mother hen, arms crossed.  “And unless you’re Lovino, you wouldn’t know what he would and wouldn’t do.  How many Merpeople are there even on this island, realistically?  Not many!  So I say you should definitely check it out!”

“Trust me, he will,” Ludwig said, watching his brother.  “I think the only thing bolting him down is good manners.  Funny, that’s never been an issue before,” he teased.

Gilbert huffed, his mouth falling open.  “You expect me to just leave before telling my brother goodbye?  What do you think I _am_?!”

Ludwig ducked his head to hide a smile, then patted at Gilbert’s knee.  “I’ll see you soon enough, brother.”

He allowed Gilbert to half strangle him in a tight hug, so enthusiastic that the two almost toppled from the chair if Ludwig hadn’t gripped the counter.  With a shy laugh, Ludwig patted Gilbert’s arm.  “Alright, if you can leave this beer behind, get traveling.  When does the circus next perform?”

“In two days,” Gilbert said, breathless as he released Ludwig to jab at the list of cities on the flier.  “In Ramas.  I can make it there easy—oh good god I hope they’re _feeding_ him—“

“I’m sure they are,” Ludwig said.  “I’ll see you as soon as you find him.”

“Take my horse,” Tino offered.  “I saw yours out front.  I don’t think the old thing can make it any further up this mountain.”

“Huh?  Well that’s kind of Arthur’s horse…”

“I’ll take care of it,” Tino said.  “And the wagon to help transport Ludwig here.  I certainly am not carrying him down this mountain.  Plus I fully intend on taking this beer back with me, so…”  He winked at Ludwig then reached out to shake Gilbert’s hand.  “Best of luck and safe travels.”  His voice slipped into the tone of an old mantra.  “Here’s hoping you find what you are looking for.”

 


	17. Cherish Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I choose the chapter names on a whim, can't you tell? I just...wanted to make things super fluffy, I guess. At least 10 fluff. goddammit steve.
> 
> I'm almost caught up to the end of the word document, which means I have to hurry up and write the end of the story already. I'm on a schedule of writing 50K every other month, I think, but I might go ahead and write the last chunk of July. I want to finish this story and I got another 20K to hammer out for "Fire and Ice".
> 
> let me know what you think? As always, thank you for reading! <3

Gilbert rode long and hard.  He’d procured a map a few cities back, and now he had it laid out on the horse’s back as it galloped full speed down the road.  The map flapped violently and the horse kicked up clouds of dust, but Gilbert traced a finger from point A to point B, holding on with nothing but his knees.  A violent gust of wind ripped the map from him, but he lifted both hands as if releasing it and let it hurl off into the heavens.

He didn’t need it.

As the wind picked up, he leaned into the horse.  Its pace jolted and lurched, but Gilbert felt one with the beast, as alive and anxious as the clouds boiling over in the sky or the sting of thin rain.  His holler challenged the thunder crackling in the distance.  His grin was slyer than the lightning forking down.

He outlasted the storm without stopping—it had been little more than dark threats mumbled on the horizon, which retreated into reds and oranges as all went quiet.

* * *

 

Antonio had said something funny, and though Lovino did not quite get the joke, he found himself swept up in the laughter in the camp.  They lazed about the fire, too exhausted after a long day’s travel to even prod at the flames.  Abel was the only one up and about, and he saw to it that the fish they’d hauled from the river earlier were cooking through.  The sizzle made Lovino’s stomach ache with hunger.

“Thank fucking god it’s fish today,” Lovino muttered. 

“I keep offering to catch you some,” Antonio said, “When it’s not.”

Lovino shrugged.  “Yeah, but you’re busy,” he huffed and bapped Antonio in the face with a lazy slap of his tail, then rolled over in his little tin pool.  Water sloshed over the side.

Feliciano plopped in beside Lovino.

“O-oi—“ Lovino yelped.

Feliciano grinned and draped himself over Lovino with a small smile. 

“Who said you could come into my pool, you bastard?”

“I did,” Feliciano said.

Francis chuckled and leaned his head against Antonio’s shoulder.  “They’re an odd pair of brothers.”

“I am glad to see that Feliciano is finally talkative,” Antonio admitted.  “You know how quiet he was before…up until Lovino arrived here.”

“Just,” Feliciano murmured, tickling his brother’s side, “Wanting you to know that I’m proud of you—“

Lovino thrashed and shoved at Feliciano, cheeks ablaze, then scooted to the other side of the pool, hunched up.  “O-oi, don’t fucking tickle me—a-and don’t say cheesy shit—“

Feliciano grinned.  “It’s not cheesy if it’s true.”

“Yeah, well you’re a rude asshole who needs to learn personal space!”

“But then I couldn’t hug my brother.”

Emil, sitting on the other side of Antonio, sighed.  The log nudged backwards as he stood and circled the fire, suddenly keen on checking on the fish crackling there.

Abel raised an eyebrow.  “You’re sure pissy today.”

Emil scowled.  “I’m always pissy, so leave me alone.”

“What a thing to admit,” Abel said.  He reached as if to ruffle Emil’s hair but tensed and stood stock still.  “I hear something.”

João leapt to his feet, swiping up the spear he always kept within arm’s reach.  “Yeah, sounds like a horse.  And it’s coming _fast_ —“

Emil grabbed one of the sticks still poking from the fire.  It yanked free with a swoop of flame and, though he kept behind Abel, he readied it.

Abel raised both his eyebrows, glancing behind at Emil, but drew his sword.  “This better not be trouble.  Who has business thundering down the road like that.”

The horse came out of nowhere, surging up out of a dip in the land and up through the valley, the lone rider tensed impossibly forward, whooping and hollering like his life depended on it.  A streak of white flashed beneath a hood as it ripped from his head—

“Motherfucker,” Abel muttered, widening his stance.  “He better not come ripping through here—“

The horse sailed over the practice pool but shied at the fire, rearing up so high that it dumped the rider lifeless onto the ground and bolted.

Emil intercepted it, speaking to it with quiet clicks of his tongue, unnoticed in the commotion.  He bared his chest to it and put up his hands til it quieted down, then took the reigns and pulled it off to the side.  He grunted at the passenger and rolled his eyes as he rubbed at the horse’s muzzle.  “I know you,” he murmured to the horse.  “The hell you doing with this weird guy.”

When Gilbert came to, all he saw was the wavering apparition of Abel towering over him, the sword a cruel ghost at his neck.

“Just what is your business?” Abel demanded.  “Show doesn’t start for another day or so.  We don’t allow intruders til then.”

Antonio and João joined him with their weapons.

“Lovino,” Gilbert choked, head throbbing.

If a Merman could jump, Lovino made a valiant attempt, tail coiling as he sprang toward Gilbert, the water slapping out either side.  He landed heavily in the grass and slithered and yanked himself along til he could roll straight onto Gilbert.

Gilbert grunted deeply, the weight straining his already pounding heart and the ache in his head—but then, nose in Lovino’s hair and the familiar—but slimy—graze of scales along his legs, he bolted upward.  His arms flung up and around Lovino, catching him before he could throw him from him, and he held tight and did not let go.  Squeezing and trembling intermittently, he shook his head, face now buried in the crook of Lovino’s neck and shoulder.  He closed his eyes to the swords and spears still angled at his neck.  “Holy shit…Lovino?  S’really you?”

“Y-yeah,” Lovino said.  He swore he felt Gilbert sniffle against him and wrapped his arms that much tighter, his eyes hard at his fellow performers.  “Oi.  Lose the weapons.  S’a friend.  Assholes.”

Slowly, Abel’s sword lowered til the edge dug into the dirt at his feet. 

“Well that was fast,” Antonio said.  He felt a smile lope across his face, his hand finding Francis’s as his head leaned against his shoulder. 

“A few months is not fucking fast,” Lovino huffed. 

“Hell no it’s _not_ ,” Gilbert said.  Slowly, he pulled back til he could grasp Lovino’s jaw in his hands and tilt his face up to stare into his eyes—as if he could determine if he was hurt just from that.  His thumb stroked almost desperately across his cheek.  “Oh god.  I’m really—I didn’t know if I would find you.  I would never have forgiven myself if you were hurt or—“  A prickle slinked up his spine and he turned his attention to the performers circling him, their stares boring into them.  “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”  His eyes narrowed.

Lovino scoffed.  “Like hell they did.  They fucking helped me.  I had to get the word out somehow.”

“Thank god,” Gilbert breathed.  He kissed at his lips, just quick pecks, one full across his mouth and the other few at the corners and up to his nose.  Finally he rested his forehead against Lovino’s, desperate to just _feel_ him in his arms, to prove to himself that he was really there.

Lovino felt a strange giddiness bubble up inside him.  It leapt from him as a shy laugh, and suddenly he was grinning and scruffing Gilbert’s hair, wriggling about as he threw insults at him.  “You fucking asshole making me wait so fucking long—oi you better fucking lick the ground for that and shove kelp up your cloaca—“

Feliciano winced and dropped his forehead into his hand.  “Only Lovino could show affection like that…”

“That’s _affection?”_ Abel asked.  He thought it over but shrugged in deference, lips pursed.

“It’s obscene,” Emil commented.

“Asshole, I don’t have a cloaca.  Get your damn facts straight,” Gilbert said.  But the laugh was infectious and he found himself joining in.  The nails in his scalp felt good, like every pound of worry that had been weighing him down fell easily from him like broken chains.  He wanted to cry.  He wanted to shout.  He wanted to scoop Lovino up and throw him on his horse and ride into the sunset—

Emil turned, feeling an odd lump in his throat.  He licked his lips and started off, horse in tow.  He halted.

Feliciano had placed a hand on his shoulder, and now took him aside.  “It’s only fair…that you tell me what is going on.  You saw me at my worst and comforted me.  I want to do the same for you.”

“Tch,” Emil muttered, but he let Feliciano drag him further from the commotion where they could just barely hear the flames crackling or see the smoke heaved into the darkening sky.  He opened his mouth, the makings of something dry and sarcastic on the tip of his tongue, but then felt it all rush forth—the truth, the hurt, the tears that broke past already burning eyes, though he looked away and grimaced at the ground.  “I want to go home.”

Feliciano cocked his head.  “Then why don’t you?”

“I don’t know.”  His teeth grit.  “Pride, I guess.  I’m the one who fucked up.  I’m the one who left.”  He spoke in disjointed fragments, as much as he could spit out against the pain building inside him.  He clenched his fists tightly at his sides.  The reigns fell from his hands, but the horse lingered.

“And you don’t think they’d take you back?” Feliciano asked.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Do you know where they are?”

Emil grunted.  He feared his voice would break if he spoke more.

“I think…you should go.  If Abel took Antonio back after breaking contract, then…maybe your family will take you back too.  If you never ask for forgiveness and never try…then you’ll just be…living alone and never knowing.  If they don’t then…I guess you and I can make the best of this life together.  I think we could get along.  The dolphins like you, so you’re not that bad of a person.  You must be sincere.”

The horse nudged Emil gently and lipped at his neck.

Emil jumped a little, but reached behind him to pat at the horse’s neck.  “S’whatever,” he managed.  He swallowed past a hard lump in his throat.  “I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m here if you need to talk,” Feliciano said.  “People like us?  We got to stick together.  There’s always strength in hope!”

“What do you know about what kind of person I am…” Emil murmured.  There was no bite to his voice; he could have been musing.

Raucous laughter finally died down, and Feliciano took a few steps toward camp, but paused to pat at Emil’s shoulder.  “You should get some rest, anyway.  I’ll be here if you need any help.”  He left Emil there to rejoin the crowd.

Gilbert was busy retelling his journey to an entranced camp, waving his arms around where Lovino was curled up in his lap, his voice booming and his eyes bright.  Periodically, he’d give Lovino a little squeeze, though, and stroke his bangs from his forehead or kiss his ear.  Each time Lovino squirmed and slapped at his hand, mumbling something about people watching, though the blush dusting his cheeks was more pleased than embarrassed.

“So you really survived drowning that many times?” Antonio asked, leaning forward so much on the log that it threatened to roll from under him.

Francis kept it grounded.

“Well, I mean, I had people hauling my sorry ass from the water each time—“ Gilbert said.  He yawned, suddenly tired, and buried his face into the crook of Lovino’s neck again.  “Tired…”

“Yeah, well you can’t exactly share my bed with me,” Lovino muttered, reaching up to scratching his head, pausing to pinch his shoulder.  “Unless you want to drown for real.  Fucking dumbass.”

Gilbert’s laugh was a light sigh across Lovino’s arm.  “I’m done falling into large bodies of water for a while, I think.”  He nuzzled into him.  “Hmmm…but we can gather up our things first thing in the morning and head down to the coast.  I have…a pirate to thank for the lead and a brother to collect.”

“Brother…?”

“Long story.”

“Hm,” Lovino murmured.  His eyes sagged with the warmth of strong arms and the constant flicker and pop of the flames.  Not even the smell of fish could shift him from the pull of sleep, though he did resist it, blinking slowly.  “S’just a problem.  Under contract,” he said.  “Got to finish this season.”

Gilbert stiffened.  “What…?”

“Gotta perform…” Lovino continued as he tucked his head into Gilbert’s chest.  “S’just for another month.  S’okay.  They’re good people.  Assholes but good people.”

“O-oh.”  Gilbert glanced around at the people passing around vegetables and fish, not knowing if the heavy pit in his chest was from fatigue or a strange reluctance.  “The hell did you get yourself into…” he wondered, though his question fell on deaf ears.   Lovino was deep in sleep.  Despite himself, Gilbert chuckled quietly and continued to stroke his hair and back, content to share his warmth.

After eating his fill, Abel wandered toward the log and took a seat beside Gilbert.  He nudged his arm with a plate of the fish.  Gilbert had to rearrange Lovino in his lap—who flopped like dead-weight—to accept it, but he ate ravenously, stopping only to breathe.

He set it down when he finished and stared pointedly at Abel.  “I get the thing about the contract, I guess.  And I will honor that shit, because I hate swindlers.  But.  Tell me that you’ve been treating him well.”

“He’s family,” Abel said.  “Does that answer your question?  Ask him yourself.  You’ll see he’s been happy.”  The log wobbled as he leaned forward to pick up the empty plate and walked off.

* * *

 

The next morning, Gilbert sat as silent as stone, no hardness on his face, just a calm patience as he observed everything around him.  The sun had not yet slinked from behind the clouds, and a thick blanket of mist still huddled into the valley.

Francis was the first to rise.  He raised a brow at Gilbert but greeted him with a gentle murmur, which was met with a short nod, then went to coax a flame out of smoldering coals and tangles of branches he’d dragged over.  Once it crackled and took hold, he stood and dusted himself off and went to forage for food.

Gilbert breathed a sigh into the still air.  It came out as a thin vapor in the coolness.  He jammed his hands into his armpits and waited.

The camp was near silent, but with the fire came some movement within the tents.  He watched the silhouette of a man rise, then turned to stare at the tanks.  They were bolted up for safety and privacy, but he was sure Lovino was still asleep.  Damn Merman could hardly keep still when he was awake.

He laughed a little despite himself but clamped his lips as Tonio pushed from his tent and went to stretch near the fire.  Yawning, Tonio adjusted his shirt and ruffled his own hair.  Immediately, he headed toward Lovino’s tank.

Gilbert tensed but watched.

“Hm, Lovino?” Antonio called, turning the crank at the side.  The wood panel lowered like a drawbridge. 

Lovino was curled along the bottom, twisted in an impossibly tangled heap, mouth hanging open even as he slept.

Antonio chuckled to himself and knocked at the side.

Lovino snapped awake, tripping over himself and turning a summersault in the water only to smack into the back wall.  With a deep scowl, he righted himself and flipped Antonio off with a little huff before surfacing and spitting a mouthful of water right onto his head.

“A-ay—“ Antonio threw his arms up and danced back a few steps, sputtering as he pulled the hem of his shirt up to wipe at his dripping eyes.

Gilbert cut into his own reverie with a cackle. 

“Don’t fucking scare me like that, you ass—“ Lovino mumbled.  He rested his arms against the edge of the tank, and his chin where his wrists crossed.  “The hell you want so early?”

“My apologies—“ Antonio kept his distance.  “But the show starts tonight and I wanted to make sure that we were okay with the routine.”

“S’same shit,” Lovino said, “Right?”  He blinked past a yawn.  “All I gotta do is swim around, right?  Been doing that for the last four weeks.  I got it.”

Antonio nodded.  “Of course, of course!”  His smile was cheerful.  “Abel also wanted me to talk with you about adding the dolphins in…”

“The hell would I do with dolphins?”

“We were supposed to work something out,” Antonio said.  “But probably something involving hoops and dolphin dives and stuff like that.”

Lovino sighed long and hard, feigning frustration at such an inconvenience, but nodded.  “I mean, s’not going to be hard to train them.  Dolphins are smart as hell.”

“Plus you can talk to them in their language,” Antonio agreed, smiling brightly.  “Which is why this shouldn’t be too hard!”

“Well except that one dolphin.  Steve or whatever.  He’s a stubborn pain in the ass--also he does the opposite of what I tell him.  Only listens to that damn Feliciano.”

Antonio chuckled.  “The one with the black spots?  I think he likes me.”

“Oh he likes you alright,” Lovino smirked, “That dolphin wants to mate with you.”

“I…I did not need to know that.”  Antonio pulled a face.  “Anyway, I was thinking I could get Vlad to combine all the tanks into one huge tank and you all could practice a while.”

Lovino grunted.  “Oi, but bring me food first.  You can’t just come here and wake me the fuck up and talk at me then not fucking feed me, especially after giving me shit to do all morning.”  He huffed and puffed his cheeks.  His gills flapped open for effect.

Antonio’s laugh was sweet.  “Alright, grumpy gills, that I can manage.  Vlad will be along shortly.  I told him, but you know how he is about being out in the sunlight.” He shook his head and disappeared off to find some of the apples that he kept stashed in his tent just for Lovino.  When he returned, he tossed a few up and into the tank.

Lovino dove down to retrieve them and gnawed them into cores under the surface.  He tossed the remains back out of the tank and laid back a minute, arms behind his head as he reclined.

Chuckling, Antonio returned to the fire to tend it, poking at it with a stick.  He jumped a little when he noticed Gilbert staring.  “O-oh.  I didn’t realize that you were awake!  Do you want something to eat?”

Gilbert shook his head.  “Not at the minute.”  He cleared his throat with a little cough then jerked his head to gesture at the tanks.  “Lovino.  Is he…is he happy here?”

Antonio blinked and lowered himself onto the log beside Gilbert.  “Why do you ask?”

“I dunno,” Gilbert said, “He was gone so long.  I want to make sure he’s _okay_.  You seem to get along with him so--”

“Hm, well I could never answer for Lovino, but in the time he has been here…he has definitely grown in confidence.  He would not say much to anyone but me when we first arrived.  But now he chatters and laughs with the rest of the crew, no matter how…interesting his language is.  I would say that he has found several friends here and he seems to be well-adjusted.”

Gilbert’s nod was solemn.  “Okay.  Good.”  He swallowed.  “I guess this isn’t the worst place he could have ended up.”  His laugh was more a rushed sigh, but the corner of his lip quirked up as he watched Lovino argue with Vlad. 

Vlad won the argument and, with a crackle of energy igniting from his fingers, the glass of the tanks leapt—water and all—into the center of the semi-circle to meld into one giant, clear tank, which was large in diameter but only one person’s length in height.  The dolphins, disoriented, bumped into each other and spun out of control.  Lovino slapped a hand to his mouth like he was nauseated.

Gilbert winced.  “Okay that was weird.”

“We have a unique set-up,” Antonio said.  “We are lucky to have a skilled alchemist like him.  Makes traveling much easier when we can dismantle large objects like that…”

Gilbert grunted.

His eyes were on Lovino who, once he’d regained his senses, went to check on each of the dolphins, murmuring sympathies with a gentle hand to their snouts.  Then he had them swim circles around him, a few bobbing up and down to slap at the surface of the water.  Lovino popped up between them and laughed, then dove on top of one, clung to its back, and rode its bucking stride.  Then, grinning wildly to himself, he cajoled the dolphin faster.  When it swung around the circle, it threw itself into the air and flipped, but Lovino launched himself from its back and performed a flip of his own.  His tail flashed in the sunlight that now burned through the mist—a circle of green as his body arched.  Then, like a knife, he slipped into the water without a splash.

“Damn…” Gilbert breathed.  “ _Damn_.”

“You’ve never seen him in the water?” Antonio asked.

“I-I… _no_ …”

“He’s very graceful,” Antonio answered. 

“He’s fucking beautiful,” Gilbert said, watching him.  He blinked a few times, almost blinded by his scales. 

“I suppose most of your interactions with him have been on land, then,” Antonio said. 

“Yeah, I don’t know why he would ever want to leave the ocean…being able to do all _that_ …”

“Who knows,” Antonio answered with a shrug.

Now, the dolphins all crowded Lovino, nudging at his sides and under his armpits til he squirmed and dove under them and popped up on the other side.  They gave chase—and Gilbert realized they were playing a massive game of tag.  Lovino laughed long and hard as they cornered him onto the wall and nuzzled harder, tickling at him til his gills flapped and he threw his arms up in surrender.

“Never heard him laugh so much before _either_ …” Gilbert said.

Abel grunted his good morning as he came shuffling from his tent.  His hair was mussed, almost flat.  He ran his fingers through it with a yawn.  “Practicing already?” He gestured to Lovino. 

Gilbert all but leapt to his feet, hitting Abel with the full force of fevered enthusiasm.  “I want to help,” he said.  “Any way that I can.  I intend on staying with Lovino, and I figure I have to pull my weight—“

“No longer an inconvenience?” Abel asked, quirking a brow.

“He’s happy here,” Gilbert said, “And like I said, I can’t accept hospitality without working in return.  I don’t care if it’s grunt work.  I will complete any task.”

Abel nodded.  “Told you he was fine.” He rubbed his eyes with a dismissive wave.  “I’ll deal with you later.  Help Antonio with whatever tasks he has.  You can do set-up later and you’ll get your orders then.”  He stalked off to find food.

Feliciano finally emerged.  “Heard the excitement,” he said with a bleary yawn.  He watched Lovino for a few minutes with a soft smile, though his eyes had a sad, far-away tint to them.  Then, remembering his purpose, he walked to Antonio and tugged his sleeve.  “Emil says he is leaving for home in the next few days.  You can deliver the news to Abel for me?”

Antonio’s mouth fell open.  “Why me, though?”

“Because I’m too cute to deal with his annoyance so early in the morning,” Feliciano said with a grin.  “Actually, no, I’ll go with you.  I just wanted to let you know and I didn’t want to deliver the news alone.”

“Why can’t Emil tell him directly?” Antonio asked.  “He’s not even under contract…so it’s fine.”

“He has a thing about goodbyes, I guess,” Feliciano answered, “I would too, so I understand.”  He shrugged a bit and helped himself to one of the apples.  He chomped down brightly, watching Gilbert a moment.  “So, you’re Lovino’s special friend?”

Gilbert blinked.  “Special…friend?”

Feliciano cracked a smile.  “You know what I mean!”  He danced off before Gilbert could respond, then circled back, in a rare good mood now that his brother was so happy.  “I’m glad you found each other.”  He settled into stillness, approaching Gilbert to wrap his hand in his own and stare him in the eye.  “Really I am.  Not everyone is as blessed as you, so…I suppose I just wanted to tell you to keep him close and cherish your time with him.”  He darted off with Antonio to speak with Abel.

“I will,” Gilbert murmured, as confused as he was.  “Uh, whoever the hell you are…”

While Antonio and Feliciano spoke with Abel in the tent, Francis emerged from the woods with some firewood to feed the fire.  Then, humming to himself, he started to peel potatoes and toss them into a cast-iron pot.  They plunked into the water, which splashed and hissed into the flames.

Gilbert wandered toward Lovino, who was scrubbing the dolphins with a coarse brush.  He climbed up and balanced on the edge of the tank.  It was barely wide enough to accommodate him, so he swung one foot in front of the other, teetering with his arms out.  He grinned down at Lovino.  “See?  I can balance!  I’m practically qualified for an act!”

“You should see Francis,” Lovino said.  “That wire he walks is a fucking thread.”

Gilbert scoffed.  He wobbled outward, but caught his balance with a few rapid steps.  “Yeah, well, I gotta start small, so—“  He cackled to himself.

“Don’t get your hopes up too much,” Lovino said.  “Little baby bastard.”  He spun a backflip in the water, then flicked water up at Gilbert with his tail.

Gilbert walked on.

Then, Steve the dolphin nudged Lovino and chattered, the others joining in and teasing him.

“Oi, you assholes, no I don’t want to fucking kiss him,” he hissed in their own language.

Steven whickered and poked him harder.  _Lovino wants to break waves with a human!_

“That’s fucking obscene,” Lovino scowled, punching Steve in the head. 

The dolphin circled him.  _In the tidal pools!  Crossing the river!  Breaching the banks—_

“You’re making shit up, I don’t even know what you’re fucking talk about—also no I don’t—“

Gilbert paused and leaned forward.  “Are you…talking to the dolphins?”

Lovino’s cheeks shot red.  “Y-yeah.  They’re just being assholes.  S’nothing.”

Steve took matters into his own hands, diving under and ramming into the wall just under Gilbert hard enough that he spilled forward, arms waving wildly, and splashed awkwardly face first into the tank.

He emerged sputtering.

Steve cackled and circled back to push through the herd.  Lovino was laughing too hard to even care.  He held his stomach until he could right himself again.

Gilbert wiped at his eyes with a soggy sleeve and stood there dripping.  “That dolphin is an asshole.”

“Yeah, he is,” Lovino admitted.  He dove under and slipped a circle around Gilbert, tail dragging over his legs.  In the water his spines were completely retracted and the scales smooth, so that they did not cut him. 

Still, Gilbert staggered back a little at the odd sensation, til his arms hooked backwards around the tank edge.  Lovino slithered up a bit too close, grinning wildly.  “Want to swim?”

“W-what?”

“Swim,” Lovino repeated.  He gestured vaguely toward the tank around them.  “I know you don’t have gills because your evolution sucks, but, you have to redeem yourself _somehow_.”

“I can swim,” Gilbert said.

“Uh huh.”

“I _can_ —“  Gilbert nudged him aside and pushed off the side, streamlining to the center of the tank in a furrow of water.  He pulled through a few strokes, head turned to one side, watching Lovino as he slowly circled him.

“Sorta,” Lovino said.  “What the hell.  You can’t have your fingers open like that.  Do you not know how water works?”  He came up on one side of him, supporting him with one arm to keep his head above the water,  took Gilbert’s hand in his other, and smoothed his fingers, cupping them then helping him angle them so that they slid effortlessly into the water.  “See?”

“Y-yeah,” Gilbert said.  His heart pounded in his chest.  He tried a few more strokes like that, stunted by how close Lovino was, but aware of the increased efficiency of his form.  Then, once Lovino released him, he swam a few more loops, feeling more powerful and graceful than before.  He stood, laughing quietly.  “Thanks—“

Lovino grinned.  “Gotta make sure you know this shit.  Two thirds of the planet, remember?”

Gilbert snickered and lunged toward Lovino, hooking around his chest.  “Okay, well, I did swimming, now you go.”

Hips undulating, Lovino swept back and forth a few times, carrying Gilbert along with a strong but gentle hold.  Gilbert closed his eyes, at ease with the warm chest against his and the easy rhythm of the water lapping up his sides.

They stopped when Antonio and Feliciano approached.  Abel was not far behind.

Gilbert stood and assessed the situation.  Most the camp was up and devouring the potato stew that Francis had made for breakfast.  A few young boys chased chickens about.

“Alright,” Abel announced.  “Set up.  I want everything put together at least an hour before the show.”  He looked to Gilbert.  “Out of the water unless you’re a fish.  I want you to help with the tent.  You look strong enough to handle it.”

Lovino slapped at Gilbert’s back.  “Get to work!”

 


	18. A Certain Lack of Disclaimer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grad school is a thing that is sapping my time and mental energy. But I want to finish this story by November so I can do some original work for NaNoWriMo. Cuz dreams and all that. ;3
> 
> After this and the Model AU that I'll post soon(ish), I might take a break to just do one-shots for a bit. Maybe take small requests. School requires a lot of me right now.

Feliciano caught up to Emil as the boy shouldered his pack and started off toward the corner of camp, hoping to disappear into the underbrush, off toward where the mountains sloped downward then smoothed out into sand-dunes. 

“Emil,” Feliciano said.  He panted a few minutes, hands on his knees, but straightened.  “Take some extra apples with you,” he said, slinging the little sack from his shoulders and proffering it.

Emil took it with a rare smile and shrugged into the sack strap.  “Thanks.”  He looked off toward where he could almost smell the tinge of salt in the air.  “I like apples.”

Feliciano nodded.  “I figured.”

Emil blinked.  “I—“

Feliciano grinned.  “Don’t worry.  Just be careful to stay by the river when you travel, okay?”

Emil nodded, “Yeah, I know.”  He grunted a little, “Nosy, though.”  He shook his head, frowning deeply.  “Good luck with your own stuff.  Mine will be okay, I think.  Thanks for listening.”  He headed off before Feliciano could say anything more.

* * *

 

Ludwig was a little green around the gills on the ship, even as stagnant was the water was, with no breeze to drive it or the heat away.  He sat in a tub on deck, watching Berwald scrub the deck with a heavy mop.  Soap spun and ran each time he slapped its tangled threads down.  He grunted as he worked.

Ludwig groaned and turned toward where Mathias was peering through an old telescope, which he’d leaned against the ship rail.

“What is the situation” Ludwig asked.  “Are the Sirens still near?”

Mathias nodded.  “Yeah, they’re definitely lingering…”

“Malingering,” Lukas murmured.

“Well aren’t you just full of book-learning,” Mats said with a little grin.  “If you didn’t just make that word up.  Never know with you.”  His eyes twinkled, but his smile dropped as they turned hard and he swiveled back around to glance in the telescope.  It was too serious a situation for joking.  He groaned.

Lukas came from behind, placing a hand on Mathias’s shoulder and easing the telescope from his hand to look for himself.  He sighed and handed it back.  “They’re not even lingering.  They’re heading toward the island.”

“Taking their time about it, though,” Mathias said.

“For what though,” Lukas murmured.

“Beats me.”

Ludwig sighed.  “Remind me again what these…these creatures do?”

“Well, they…sing,” Mathias said.

Lukas flicked his head.  “You left out a few things.”

“Right, um, they sing and lure men into the ocean, where they either drown them or…eat them.”  He tugged at his collar, swallowing.  “It’s kind of gross.”

“And sadistic,” Lukas said.  “They do it because it’s hilarious to them.”

“S’not it,” Mathias said with a little huff.

“Why would you know?”

“Because I know things too.”

“Uh-huh.”  Shaking his head, Lukas did pat at Mathias’s arm, letting his hand trail down the inside of his wrist and lace into Mathias’s fingers.  He gave them a little squeeze.  “Let’s not discuss the finer details,” he murmured quietly.  “I don’t want to think about it.”

Mathias remembered to breathe and nodded.  “Right.”  He brightened a little for Ludwig’s sake.  “Right, I guess the point is that they’ll have shore sailors and ship sailors dropping into the ocean like swatted flies, and it’ll be a bad mess.  Not really good.”

“What can I do about it?” Ludwig asked.

“You can communicate with them,” Mathias said.

“Without them harming me?”

Mathias shrugged.  “They don’t typically attack other Merfolk.”

“O-oh.  Why is that?”

“Their song won’t work on you, necessarily,” Mathias said, “And they can’t really _drown_ you really.” 

“Do they not have spines or claws or teeth?” Ludwig asked.

“That’s enough questions,” Lukas said.  “We do this out of necessity.”  He watched the sun slowly tip into a slow descent, then licked his finger, raised it, and held it there to test the wind.  “We’ll dock near the castle for the night.  We just need you to ask them what their purpose is here.”

“And if they tell me outright that they wish to harm those on this island?”

“Er…”  Mathias scratched at the back of his head and looked sheepishly to Lukas.  “Talk them out of it?”

Lukas scoffed a little.

Ludwig frowned.  “Right…”  He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, shaking his head, then closed his eyes.  “I see no way around this.  I will try to avoid conflict if possible.”  He hauled himself from the pool and slipped right down through the railing, hitting the water somewhat awkwardly.  It slapped with entry.

“Fools’ errand,” Lukas said.

“We don’t have many other options,” Mathias said.

“I know.”

“And if I could go myself then I would—but you know how valuable our cover is.”

Lukas was silent.

* * *

 

Ludwig hit the water funny, and his back still twinged even as he spiraled deeper.  He headed toward where the sun started inching toward the horizon, west where the Sirens still churned up the water with their rushed pacing, their tails whipping fierce whirlpools into an otherwise still sea.  They were calm, even in the turmoil.

When Ludwig got closer, he could see that they were a medley tail sizes and shapes, some with long spines strung with lacy fins, others with severe hooked tails, some with dolphin’s tails or sharks tails, or tails like Lovino’s.  Still, for all the variety, each flashed a deep red—not stained so much as seeped through.

Ludwig swallowed.  They carried no weapons, but the claws on curled fingers and the hook of fins and spines warned him to keep his distance.  The water, even from that distance, slowly dragged him closer, and he threw his back onto the side of an underwater cave, where there was a lull in the strange currents churning up. 

“I don’t see how this will work…” he muttered.

“You’re stupid.”

Ludwig started, but gripped at the rock there to keep from throwing himself out into the open again.  He turned his head toward the owner of the voice.  “Who are you.”

The Merman grinned and pressed himself to the wall too, but leaned out to stare up at the cluster of Sirens.  He leaned back toward Ludwig with a shrug.  “Name’s Im Young Soo.  Not that you’ll remember it once they get to you.” 

He was a type of Merman that Ludwig had never before seen, with a long white tail mottled with black and blue and red.  His spines were long and tilted down toward his fin, which was large but sheer and ruffled.  His hair was dark and so long that it stood on end with the easy sway of water.

“I—why is that?”

“Should be obvious,” Im Young Soo said.  “Everyone knows that stuff.”  He made as if to yawn.  “Unless you have a death wish, you probably should stay away.”

“Unfortunately that is not an option.  Please just explain to me what the issue is.”

“Im Young Soo—“ Hissed another voice.  The water boiled with activity as a second Merman swooped in, hand locked in a sharp grip around Young Soo’s arm and the other gripping a crude spear.  This Merman was pure red and gold, fins just as fluttery.  His hair was secured at the nape of his neck into a short ponytail.  “If I have to tell you not to wander off one more tim—“

“But Yao—“

This Merman—Yao--paused to stare at Ludwig, and raised its spear.  “Who are you.”

Ludwig sighed.  “Ludwig.”

“Okay, now go away,” Yao said.  “This is our territory.”  He swished his tail in agitation.  “We marked it.”

Ludwig raised both hands in surrender.  “Look, I’ll leave as soon as I am able to speak with the Sirens.”

“You trying to die?”  He waved his hand, clicking his tongue.  “You young fish are so stupid these days.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him—“  He winced as Yao smacked at his head.

“No one asked you.”  Yao sighed.  “This isn’t my problem.  You do what you want.  See if I care.”

Ludwig groaned internally.  “Fine.  I just need to get them to move on anyway.  Such a thing should be useful to you if you’re so eager to claim this territory.”

Yao blinked.  “I don’t like them here,” he agreed.  He pursed his lips.  “You got balls.”

“I—er, technically I suppose I…don’t?”

Yao’s laugh was short and dry and humorless.  “It’s an expression, shark.”

A third Merman wandered in, spear close to his side.  Like Yao, he resembled a golden fish, but the oranges and the gold melded into something that shone as liquid.  He kept his hair cropped short, and watched with impassive eyes.  “Who is this?”

“Says his name is Ludwig—“ Yao interjected before Ludwig could even open his mouth.  “He’s suicidal.”

“I am not—“

Kiku shook his head quietly. “What a shame.”  His calm tone said anything but.  “I finished scouting the area.  There aren’t any Mermen around.”  He glanced at Ludwig.  “Other than him.  River smells like a few.”

“We can drive them out,” Yao said, “Or pull them in.  Depends on how annoying.”

Frustrated, Ludwig finally cut in, turning to Kiku.  “Before this conversation gets too derailed.  I need to know why you’re so worried about the Sirens.  They cannot harm Mermen, correct?”

Yao turned to Kiku and tapped his temple.  “You deal with this.”  He tugged Im Young Soo away.

Kiku sighed and looked to Ludwig.  “You do not know of Siren?”

Ludwig shook his head.  “No, not beyond a very vague definition—please just explain to me the dangers and how I might avoid them.”

“Avoiding them altogether,” Kiku said simply.  He glanced up at them with a little shudder.  “Yao says they’ll move on.  They hate land.”

“Not an option,” Ludwig repeated for what felt like the hundred time.  A slow pounding slinked into the base of his skull. 

“Then I will tell you the dangers,” Kiku said, “So you can reassess your logic.”  He bowed his head slightly, eyes flickering up to the haze of light near the surface, as if searching for inspiration.  Then, as he spoke, they cast down and to one side.  His voice was steady but quiet.  “They may not try to kill you unless you attack them, but they will try to change you.”

“Change me?”

“To one of them,” Kiku answered.  “Then you are empty husk of only despair and hatred.  Gone forever.  Everyone knows that.”

“How can I…resist that?”

Kiku’s lip quirked a little but he shook his head.  “It’s difficult.  For your own good, I would not advise.  They will move on and there is no business to be had with that group.”  He shifted the spear to his other hand.  “There is no need.”

“I wonder if the people who sent me _knew_ that,” Ludwig groaned.

He glanced up at the hulking shadow which slowly slid up over them, an oval of wood coated by a ring of ocean.  A ship. 

“Sailors,” Kiku said.  He shook his head, but pointed.  “For your own good, I will show you.  Then you can abandon your fool’s errand.”  He started off toward the surface.

Ludwig followed.

When they emerged from the waves, the full force of the Sirens’ song hit their ears.  It was a dull, mangled screech, like something ripped out of a decaying windpipe.  It pitched high and then low, thin and then thick.  The very waves quivered with its intensity.  Even the whirlpools froze.

Ludwig clapped his hands to his ears.  “What—“

“They sing,” Kiku murmured.  Even with the overwhelming noise, he did not raise his voice.  Ludwig had to read his lips.  “Watch.”

The ship shuddered and bucked at the edge of the whirlpools, its sails flying lose as sailors released the ropes to huddle around the rail, pushing at each other as if trying to fight through a dense crowd.  Those closest to the rail toppled over with the force of those behind them.  They hit the water like rag dolls, but bobbed to the surface and treaded water, eyes fixed on the Sirens.

The boiling mass of Red MerFolk stilled and stared back.  Their song elevated.  Feral teeth flashed.

The sailors still on board began climbing over the rails in droves, arms flailing as they hurled themselves down and slapped the water.

Then, the ship an empty corpse, the Sirens’ song cut off like something ripped in half.  The silence stalled and adjusted, weighing down heavily.  Entranced sailors pushed closer.

Then, something clicked, and the Sirens were upon the men in a flash of red and sharp teeth and deafening screams, rivaled only by the red spilling out into the water and hoarse screams of men as their flesh was ripped apart.  They thrashed and bit and clawed against the Sirens until the last was torn into, and the remains slowly sank.  The Sirens feasted in the new silence.

Ludwig slapped a hand to his mouth and turned away.  “Oh god…”

“I told you,” Kiku said.  “It is not something you want to be mixed up in.  Please just come with me.  You seem to be alone.  Our group will accept you.”

Pale and raw with shock, Ludwig barely felt Kiku tug him back down beneath the waves and in the darkness of the cave.  A hollow ringing in his ears swallowed Yao and Kiku’s conversation.  The throbbing in his head ate at his vision.

A hand clapped on a body that felt like someone else’s.  Kiku was there.

Ludwig grimaced but took a few deep breaths.  He shook loose the horror that tightened his skin, and it coiled deep into the pit of his stomach as his vision slowly cleared and the throbbing receded.  “This is not good,” he muttered, fingers prying into his forehead.

Kiku blinked.  “It’s a fact of life.”

“We wish we could make them go away,” Yao said, bottom lip jutting out.  “But it’s best to wait a few days.”

“The people who sent me _must_ have known that this was the situation.”  His frown deepened.

“Merfolk?” Kiku asked.  “We haven’t been able to detect any others beside you.”

“No, er, sailors.”

Yao clucked his tongue like a mother hen, shaking his head.  “No, no no, it’s no good working for sailor humans.  We aren’t their lackeys.”

Ludwig just sighed deeply.  “I don’t wish to discuss this presently.”

Yao’s brows raised, eyes bright.  “Why would they send you anyway?  I bet they got caught in the Siren song by now.  They sing loud.”  He shrugged, completely nonchalant.  “Oh well, too sad.  Like Kiku said, just join us.”  He tapped at Ludwig’s arm as if probing his muscles.  His look was one of appraisal.  “You look strong.  You can help us map our territory.  Our tribe is small.  We need good members.”

“How…loud exactly?” Ludwig asked, ignoring Yao.  “Loud enough to reach the shore?”

“From here?” Yao asked, tilting his head in thought.  He glanced at Kiku.  “Where do you think that boat came from?”

“I saw a boat docked earlier,” Kiku said.  “I imagine they were still at the shore.”

“Loud enough,” Yao answered.

Ludwig cursed.  “They better not have perished.  I need to have a word with them about a certain lack of disclaimer.”  He pulled free from Yao and Kiku and inched toward the mouth of the cave, one hand on the inside wall as he squinted upward at the whirlpools and the tails of the Sirens.  “What a mess.”

“You can slip by unnoticed,” Kiku said, joining him but keeping a few feet distance.  “They don’t go after Merfolk unless engaged directly.  They lack the ability to dive too deeply under the water.  They lose their eyesight without bright sun.”

Ludwig blinked and rubbed his eyes.  He had not noticed that he did not have any trouble seeing even in the darkness of the cave.  “Hm,” he said, nodding.  “You will be in this area, correct?”

“You intend on returning?” Kiku asked.

Ludwig nodded.  “It is a possibility.”

Kiku nodded then ducked his head into a little bow.  “The three of us and a small group have settled in presently.  You can find us in this and several other caves hidden along the ocean floor.”

“Right.  Er, thanks,” Ludwig said, nodding somewhat awkwardly as a too-stiff spine tried to imitate the bow.  He hurried out.

When he surfaced, a few hundred feet from the Siren’s whirlpools, he saw the splintered remains of the ship start to sink.  The Sirens still threw themselves up into the air and slashed at its broken hull.  It split further with a loud groan and sank faster.

Ludwig cleared his throat and swam as fast as he could toward the shore, where the Sailors had told him they would be.

To his relief, he found the ship still docked there, and without bothering to shout, knocked heavily on the hull and slapped at it with his tail, til the booming sound shook even the sails.  He did not stop until Tino poked his head over.

“Oi!” Tino called, waving both arms.  He had to scream to be heard over the jostle of waves and the distance.  “Just one moment—“  He disappeared and returned with a heap of rope in his arms, which he secured to the railing and dropped.  It unrolled into a ladder, and flopped there against the side, the hard knots knocking slightly against the wood.  “Climb on up!”

Ludwig stared at it and sighed, but took the bottom tier in both his fists.  He bent his tail, as if trying to flex his knees to get a leg up, but realized his mistake and let it fall useless back into the water.  “Right,” he mumbled.  He used his tail to push himself a little out the water and lesson the strain of the first few rungs, then took the ladder one hand over the other, tail dangling as dead-weight beneath him as the ladder swayed.  Still, he was strong and his pace steady, though sweat dripped down his forehead.

Tino poked his head down with a grin.  “Almost there,” he said.

“This seems like an odd thing to have on a ship,” Ludwig grunted. 

“You’d be surprised,” Tino said.

Ludwig was only a few rungs from the rail when Tino’s head vanished.  Feet stamped across the deck.  Lukas shouted something.

“Is that…is that…Emil?” Mathias said.

Ludwig hauled himself up to the rail and collapsed onto the deck in a heaving pile, but rolled over.  The Sailors were clustered on the rail closest to shore, where there was a four foot gap between the rolling boat and the face of a cliff.  The castle walls jutted up out of the rock.

“It—it is—“ Tino said.

“EMIL—“ Mathias screamed, nearly jumping up and down.  “OH god, _Emil_ —“

“Go _get_ him,” Lukas said.  “Hurry.”  His voice choked back with a swallow.

“Y-yeah—one second—“  With a running leap, Mathias hurdled up over the railing but used it as a boost to sail over the gap. 

He landed heavily on the clifftop near the castle, where a lone figure wandered nearer.  Emil huddled in a tattered cloak with a hood that did little to conceal silver hair or a calm face.  Then, as Mathias bounded into view, that stone-cold façade cracked and there was a flash of fear and hope and _relief_ that boiled up before he could swallow it down.  He found himself enveloped in Mathias’s arms, a grunt ripping from his throat as the other slammed into him.

Then, Mathias held him so tightly he thought he might burst, but he buried his face into him, fingers hooking into his shirt.  He shook so violently he felt he’d fall apart.

Lukas was not far behind.  “Emil,” he said, almost breathless, emotion raw in his eyes.  “Emil…”  He slowed to a walk and took a few slow steps forward.

Mathias released Emil, who stared at Lukas, mouth parted as if to speak but no words coming.  He shook his head and managed a weak “I’m sorry…”

“Me too,” Lukas said quietly. 

He wrapped himself around Emil just as fiercely as Mathias had, and did not protest when Mathias squeezed the two of them. 

Lukas kissed the top of Emil’s head, fingers teasing through his hair.  “Don’t do that to me again.”

Emil nodded quietly.  “I won’t…I won’t…never again.”

“Good,” Lukas murmured.  He elbowed at Mathias’s ribs until he pulled away, then held Emil at arms’ length to peer into his eyes.  “You aren’t hurt,” he said.

Emil shook his head.  “No, I’m fine.”  Finally that frown settled into his lips.  “You didn’t look for me.”

“Don’t spout bullshit,” Lukas said.

“He did nothing but look,” Mathias said, “You can’t even begin to imagine how tormented Lukas was—“

“S’enough,” Lukas said.  “My little brother is back now.”  He frowned.  He did not remove his hands from Emil’s shoulders.  “The hell were you?”

“Circus,” Emil choked weakly. 

Lukas nodded, then looked to Mathias.  “He’s probably hungry.  We’re having dinner early.  Something good.”

Mathias grinned widely.  “Yeah!  Sounds awesome.”

Emil’s stomach gurgled as if in agreement, and he wrapped his arms around his middle.  “Yeah,” he said.

They walked in a huddle back toward the ship, Lukas determined to hold Emil’s hand despite his protests.

“Lukas, I’m not five.”

“I need to bond with my little brother,” Lukas said flatly.

“Hell no you don’t—I came back, but that doesn’t mean you can baby me again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.

With a grin, Mathias bounded forward and hooked his arm around his neck to rustle his hair.  Emil shoved at him.

The pair teetered on the edge of the cliff then overbalanced and smacked straight into the water beside the ship.

“Idiots,” Lukas said, a rare smile touching his lips as he scoffed and toed across the plank he’d set across the chasm.

“Shouldn’t you…go help them?” Ludwig asked.  He’d pulled himself up into a kneeling position by the rail to peer down.  “The water is deep…”

“They’re fine,” Lukas said.

Mathias and Emil emerged in the waves.  Emil sputtered loudly and shoved at Mathias, cursing softly and yanking at his hair.  A flash of silver flicked up from the water—a tail—and slapped down at Mathias, sending a wall of water hurling into his face.

Mathias gagged a little and threw himself backward, his back arched.  His tail whipped upward with a salvo of water.  Emil ducked under to avoid it, and popped up to smack at his face.

Blinking, Mathias threw his arms up and turned his face away.  “Okay, okay, wow, violent, Emil—they teach you to be so cruel at the circus?”

“No,” Emil huffed. 

“I…they’re…Mermen?” Ludwig said, turning to stare at Tino and Lukas.  His eyes trailed down to their legs then back to their faces.  “H-how?”

“What do you mean how,” Lukas said.  He quirked a brow at Tino.  “Have fun with that,” then climbed up onto the rail to dive down.  As soon as his hands sliced through the water, his legs fused into a long, silver tail then disappeared with him as he swooped deeper into the water.

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [High Tide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1294051) by [TheVampireAvatar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVampireAvatar/pseuds/TheVampireAvatar)




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